


Déjà Vu

by nchi_wana



Category: Et Cetera (Manga)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Assassins & Hitmen, Drama, Female Character In Command, Fluff, Gen, Girls with Guns, Humor, Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-18
Updated: 2010-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-31 00:11:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 79,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/337746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nchi_wana/pseuds/nchi_wana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One year after the fall of the Syndicate, Mingchao and Baskerville settle into a peaceful existence until they happen upon a peculiar artifact. When it gets them caught in a battle between a gang of women and a two-faced secret society, they can't help but feel like they've been through this before. Sometimes fate deals the same card twice!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimers:** _Et Cetera_ is a manga series that belongs to Tow Nakazaki. I own nothing. I am simply a fan and I like to write fanfiction sometimes, and I don’t profit from any of this.
> 
>  _Et Cetera_ is also a series that doesn’t concern itself too much with historical accuracy, but some research has been done to stay within reason. Sometimes I had to make stuff up. The main thing I concern myself with is canon and characterization.
> 
> Please leave a comment with any critique or thoughts you might have to offer, so I can improve and be encouraged to keep writing. :) Or you can leave kudos. This was the first story I'd written in several years at the time I started it, so I've learned a lot since then.

* * *

 

 

Death.

That was the only thing he could think of. It chewed rabidly at his brain and gnawed on the veins of his heart as he stumbled through the brush, his breath tearing through his throat and burning his lungs. Even the rapid crunch of the earth beneath his feet seemed to prophesy his inevitably gruesome fate.

"No…!" he gasped, his eyes fixed on the horizon of the hill so near in front of him. If he could just cross over the ridge…

He heard a teasing call behind him, and although the owner of the voice was still far behind him, he knew distance was no matter to _that_ person.

Grabbing at the short grass and shrubs, he yanked himself up the steep incline of the hill. "I…I don't wanna…" Before he could finish his struggling words, he topped the crest of the hill, viewing the sprawling scene before him: a city.

The man laughed triumphantly, but before he could continue his mad rush down the other side, he was cut short when he felt a hard, stiff object press against the back of his head.

He let out an anguished wail, falling to his knees. "Please! Please don't kill me! I've told ya all I know! I swear by everything holy!" He hoped someone might hear him down in that distant city, but he knew it was hopeless. The man sobbed.

The figure behind him was silent, the barrel of the gun still pressed to the man's head.

"I believe not," the gentle male voice said softly, as if speaking to a baby. "You've not told me anything I haven't already heard. Now…" The muzzle of the gun pressed harder. "Where did you leave it?"

The man trembled violently, his hands at his sides, defeated. Opening his mouth finally, he squeezed out the hoarse words. "The river. I dropped it in the river." He knew he was doomed, because he could imagine the other man's rage when he realized what that meant: the river was at flood stage.

To his surprise, the pressure of the gun behind his head was released, and a sense of wonder came over him. Was he letting him go? No… Would he do that? He wasn't angry?

The footsteps of the figure he had yet to look at began to move away from him, and he listened until they grew faint enough for his comfort. Standing, he gazed blankly at the enormous city in the distance. It was a miracle.

"That was quite a stupid thing to do," the other man suddenly said.

A single gunshot echoed across the wilderness, and a flurry of frightened birds exploded from a nearby tree.


	2. Filthy Rich

The bold letters of the newspaper jumped out: "MISSING MAN FOUND DEAD OUTSIDE TOWN."

The paper rustled as the unusual looking priest with long blond hair shifted in his chair. The article had obviously caught his attention, but with the obnoxious slobbering of his companion across the table he was probably having difficulty concentrating on what it meant.

A young Chinese girl of about twelve years of age sat across from him. She finally paused from her feast and sighed. "Wooooow! I'm so glad we decided to stay here in Los Angeles! This restaurant is the _best_! What's even better is they serve Chinese food!" Picking up her chopsticks, she attacked a mound of rice on her plate. She then paused to take a moment to savor the taste, chewing on a particularly delicious morsel that caused her shiver happily. Her hair, tied up in two brown pigtails, quivered with the movement.

She went once again to pick up a dumpling when she discovered it was already gone. She gasped. "Huh?! I ate it already?!" _But I'm still hungry!_ she thought miserably. Then her eyes drifted to the plate across from her, and she became suddenly quiet. She fiddled with the strap across her chest, one that held a wok to her back like a turtle's shell. Twisting her lips, she tried to peer at the face behind the newspaper.

"Um… Mr. Priest…?" she said, scratching her cheek in a sheepish gesture.

The man behind the paper finally set it down, casting a stern gaze her way. "Mingchao, you'll overeat again."

"But you won't eat it! And even if you did, you'll only eat half of it!" The girl pouted, puffing her cheeks out. She eyed the untouched plate of food in front of the priest. "It's not right to let good food go to waste."

"Fine," Baskerville conceded, pushing the plate across the table and picking up his paper again. "But don't come crying to me when you get a stomachache. It'll be on _your_ expense if you have to see a doctor again."

Mingchao slumped her shoulders as she looked down at the food in front of her, then back at the priest. She wished he could have at least eaten _one_ of the dumplings off the plate, but lately…

When her slobbering hadn't continued, Baskerville peeked around the paper again. "What's wrong, Mingchao?"

She stiffened and laughed nervously, her face flush. "Oh, no! It's nothing! I was just, um…thinking about what to eat first!" She laughed again loudly and stabbed her chopsticks into the first bit of food, acting as if nothing had happened, but as soon as the priest disappeared behind the paper again the look in her eyes changed back to concern.

Mingchao noticed that over the past year since the fall of the Syndicate, Baskerville's appetite had diminished. She chewed on the end of her chopsticks as she considered the reason, and knew very well what it was.

During the final showdown against her own father, Gothic, the leader of the Syndicate, Baskerville had learned the secret to the Eto Gun's ultimate power, the one that would defeat Gothic. Bearded Ina, an elderly member of the Syndicate, had told him the secret in his final dying breath. However, Baskerville was so badly injured that Bearded Ina had to give him an extremely powerful medicine that would allow the former Syndicate killer to numb the pain and let him help Mingchao defeat her father. The old man had warned him that although the medicine was strong, it would shorten his life.

Mingchao never guessed the other side effects. After the battle, she just thought Baskerville was still recovering from his wounds, but even after a year he would still become short of breath or weak if he overexerted himself. Now she noticed he wasn't eating as much as he used to.

As she sucked on her chopsticks with satisfaction, she heard her friend chuckle behind the paper. The girl put her knees on the chair and leaned over the table.

"Are you reading the funnies?" she asked.

"No. Take a look at this." He turned the paper and faced an article her way.

"Chinese Girl Strikes It Rich'," Mingchao read. She paused a moment and realized what that implied. "Wait… That article's about _me_!"

Baskerville gave her a teasing smile. "Indeed it is. You're famous, though not in the way you intended."

The girl sat back down in her chair and crossed her arms irritably. He was right. She was a star of a different kind.

About two months ago, the two of them were traveling through the wilderness when they became hungry. Unfortunately, someone had snuck up on them in the middle of the night and stole some of their equipment, including some fishing line and bait. Mingchao to this day blames Baskerville for not being more alert like he usually is, but he said that it wasn't his fault she sleeps like a rock. She felt guilty later for arguing with her still-injured friend, so she decided to use the Eto Gun to shoot fish out a nearby river for food. It wasn't their favorite form of fishing. It had worked in the past, but this time she got more than just fish, sand, and a free shower. She got _gold_.

Now she and Baskerville were well off for quite a while, and they decided to go ahead and settle in Los Angeles for the time being. For Baskerville it was a time for peace and rest, but for Mingchao…it was a chance to be close to Hollywood! Yet sadly, after a year, she still hadn't realized her dream to become a star thanks to her complete lack of singing ability. As her dream slowly faded, she became content with living with her best friend.

"Geez, they're just now getting around to printing that?" Mingchao mumbled.

"Well, we did keep it a secret for a while," Baskerville replied, setting down his paper and picking up his coffee, the only thing he had put in his stomach all morning. "That area was pretty remote. If others had found out about it, there would've been a rush. We had to collect as much as possible before anyone else discovered it."

Mingchao narrowed her eyes at his coffee. "Yeah…" They only recently brought the gold into town to cash it in. Now their "claim" was swarming with people panning or mining for what was left.

Baskerville gathered the papers and stood up. "Well, then, are you ready?"

"Yeah!" Mingchao replied cheerfully. She dashed out the front door of the restaurant ahead of him as he left a tip on the table.

The girl stepped out onto the boardwalk and let the warm sun soak into her being. Taking a deep inhale of breath, she sighed happily. "I love this place. It smells like…. It smells like…" A pungent odor suddenly assaulted her nostrils. Staggering back and covering her nose, she spied a group of horses tied to a hitching post next to her. "Ewwww! It smells like horse poop!"

"That's a frontier town for you," Baskerville said, appearing next to her. He laughed softly.

"My Grandpa should've made ways to make horse poop smell good instead of making crazy guns!"

Baskerville laughed all the more. "Come on, Mingchao, we have some errands to run." He took her shoulders and turned her down the boardwalk, but before he turned he had a double-take.

"What's wrong?" Mingchao asked, looking up at her companion. She saw him staring at one of the horses at the hitching post.

"Nothing," Baskerville said, and urged her forward to their first destination.


	3. Pandora's Box

The sun glittered brightly on the surface of the water flowing through the canal, its soft murmur promising cool relief to all those who took from its bounty. It was higher than normal because of the snow melting off the mountains in the east, but that was only a good sign to the people who used this water every day for vital uses. Civilization would not be possible without water.

Mingchao was gazing into a window across the way, almost drooling and her eyes sparkling at the sight of the goods. Expensive perfumes reflected in the afternoon light, casting all arrays of dazzling colors across the stands they were delicately perched on. Women's silken gloves were intricately embroidered with the finest of gold and silver threads as they were draped in rows across a bronze pole. A gorgeous and obviously pricey dress was being displayed on a mannequin with a tiny waist, implying how women's figures ought to look if they want to be attractive.

Mingchao sighed despairingly. "And none of this comes in _my_ size," she said. "Although…" She eyed the perfumes, her attention settling on a bottle whose design appealed to her.

Reaching her hands into her pockets, she fished for whatever coins she had on her, knowing full well that she definitely had enough to at least afford a bottle of nice perfume. She snickered when she wondered what Baskerville would think. Grinning all the while, Mingchao finally yanked out a few dollar bills and a couple of copper coins. Her eyes went wide with shock when she realized—

"I don't have enough money!" she cried. "Where did it all go?!" Panicked, she dug further into her pockets until her shoulders slumped in defeat. "I must've spent it all already." Her mind only led her to one conclusion: "I have to go to the bank."

Mingchao started down the street toward the bank when someone caught her eye. Baskerville was on the other side of the canal. They had split up earlier to make the errands go faster, and so she caught sight of him right before he stepped into a general store.

She figured that if she was going to the bank, she might as well ask if he needed any money, too. They had about the same amount each the last time they took some out.

Mingchao tried calling out to him from across the canal, but he ducked inside the store before she had a chance to get his attention.

Growling in frustration, she let out a sharp breath and dashed off toward where she saw a bridge. As she approached it, she came to a sudden halt. A sign glared in her face.

"Whaddya mean 'Bridge Closed for Repairs'?!" she yelled, planting her hands on her hips. Glancing quickly to her left and right, there was only one other bridge she could see. "I'm not going all the way down there! Mr. Priest might be gone by then!" Growling again, she took one more inspection of the bridge in front of her.

She couldn't see any obvious signs of damage, and wondered if they had repaired everything already and forgotten to take the sign down. The wooden planks and the handrail looked sturdy enough. _Oh, forget it! It looks fine, so I'm crossing!_

She ducked under the sign, which was attached to a rope strung across the entrance in hopes of preventing passage, but a mere rope wasn't going to stop Mingchao.

Her boots thudded rapidly across the wooden bridge, rattling it. Her destination on the other side was in sight when her right foot came down and she heard a loud crack. Before she realized what had happened, cold water enveloped her body and the air rushed out of her lungs. She didn't even time to scream.

Her clothes, heavy now that they were soaked, weighed her body down and carried her along with the current. She knew she had to kick her feet and pump her arms, but that's all she knew to do. Praying for luck, Mingchao's survival instincts kicked in.

It was a miracle that her head managed to break the surface, and she took a greedy gulp of air. With that one breath, she cried out only one thing: "Mr… Mr. Priest! HELP!"

She tried making as much noise as possible to get peoples' attention, but she realized that they were just as confused as she was. _I will NOT drown!_ she thought resolutely. _No WAY am I gonna drown! I haven't even realized my dream yet_ Though she hadn't acted on it since arriving in L.A., it was at least something to give her the will to fight for her life.

Kicking her feet fiercely, Mingchao kept her head above the water and searched frantically for something to latch onto and pull herself out, but all she saw was the smooth, solid earthen walls of the canal. Then something floated into her field of view. It looked rectangular and bobbed lazily in the current.

Mingchao's head fell under the water's surface again and it stung her nostrils, but when she came back up the anomaly was closer. Fighting against the current, she waited for the object to come closer and was glad to see that it seemed large enough to give her buoyancy. She wrapped her arms around it and hung on for the ride.

"Is someone gonna help me, or am I gonna have to float all the way out to the ocean?!" she shrieked.

"Mingchao!" a familiar voiced shouted. The girl turned her head to see Baskerville running alongside the canal.

"What took you so long?! Are you deaf?!" Mingchao yelled back, shaking her fist.

"No, I was getting _this_!" Baskerville replied, swinging a rope in his hands. He flung the looped rope down into the water and over Mingchao. Exhausted, the girl was pulled out, cold and embarrassed.

* * *

Mingchao rubbed the towel roughly over her wet head and shivered. Her nose was running and she feared she'd get a cold.

The room she was in was sparely furnished, with only a bed, a dresser drawer, a vanity table, and a water basin for washing. There was also a small narrow closet. Strung across the room was a makeshift clothes line where she hung her wet clothes after wringing them out and changing into some new ones. This was a small house on the outskirts of the city that they were able to purchase with the money they got from cashing in the gold.

Sniffing, she looked over at the unusual box that had pretty much saved her life. If it hadn't been for that, Baskerville probably would've arrived too late.

"Here's your tea," Baskerville said as he came through the door of her room. He had changed out of his priestly garb and into some plain clothes, and usually did this only when at home. Outside, he dressed as a priest to avoid being recognized by anyone who may know his face as one that belonged to the now defunct Syndicate. Today he didn't plan to go outside again after what had happened to Mingchao.

He set her tea down on a nightstand next to her bed and watched with worry as she sipped on it. The only things she had said during their return home were a few irritably muttered words about perfume, repairs, and the bank. "Are you going to be all right?" he asked softly.

Mingchao suddenly straightened her back and struck her thumb to her chest. "Of course! I am Mingchao, and someday I'm going to be a star in Hollywood!"

Baskerville smiled wryly. The only job in Hollywood she'd be able to get is as a stuntman or daredevil with the outrageous luck she has. He snickered, and Mingchao was certain he was imagining her being stuffed into a cannon and being shot into the sky. Or maybe she wouldn't need a cannon. All she has to do is point the Eto Gun at the ground at her feet.

Mingchao watched Baskerville put his hand over his mouth to hide his grin and stifle the laughter. "Hey! Stop laughing! I almost died today!"

"Oh, Mingchao, you'll live to be a hundred years old," Baskerville chuckled. Mingchao opened her mouth to make a retort, but her friend turned away and picked up the box sitting on the chair.

He ran his hand over its rough wooden texture. "I wonder what this was doing in the canal. It's more like a crate. It doesn't even have an opening."

"Open it! Open it!" Mingchao urged, zipping up next to him. "Maybe it has treasure inside!"

"Treasure? Probably more like rotten fruit." Baskerville shook the box and there was a soft shifting sound striking the edges. "Stuff gets washed down the canal from the mountains all the time. This is likely some farmer's—"

"I'll blast it open!" Mingchao grabbed up her Eto Gun and dashed over to the vanity, pulling open the top drawer. Inside were numerous small dusty bottles that contained what looked like white powder.

Paling, Baskerville stammered, "U-uh, Mingchao, I-I don't think that's—"

She held up a bottle. "This one! This oughtta do it!" Cackling all the while, she made for the door of her bedroom when Baskerville's sharp voice halted her diabolical plot.

"Mingchao!" he snapped, and the girl looked back sheepishly. "We have a _saw_."

* * *

The two stared down at their handiwork, puzzled by the "surprise inside."

Outside, behind their home, the sun glared off the polished surface of something stark white. They found it nestled inside a pile of wet straw and wrapped in soaked cloth.

"Well, I, uh…" Baskerville was at a loss for words.

Mingchao was bewildered. "What? What the heck _is_ this? We got jipped! Is this some kind of a joke?"

Baskerville picked up the white object and scrutinized it. "It's a…gun grip. Well, more like half a gun, like it was cut in half."

"What kinda person needs half a gun?" the girl wondered. "You can't shoot with half a gun!"

"Then I'm assuming there's another half somewhere," Baskerville said, running his fingers over the intricate designs carved into the ivory handle. "It's actually very pretty. It looks like an antique, probably from the Colonial era."

"Even if it is, it's still no good," Mingchao said, but then paused a moment. "Wait… You think we can sell that?"

"Why? We have all the money we need."

"Well, maybe it's some kind of rare oddity from a far away land! People pay good money for junk like that!" Mingchao clapped her hands. "Maybe we've found some ancient relic!"

"Isn't that 'rare oddity from a far away land' sitting at your hip right now?" Baskerville asked dryly. "And no gun is an ancient relic."

Mingchao crossed her arms. "Oh, whatever." Then she suddenly beamed. "Hey! Maybe we can go find out where the other half is!"

At this, Baskerville shrunk back from the overenthusiastic girl. "Oh, no. No, no, no. I've had my fair share of rare gun hunting to last me my entire life, or what's left of it. And you know what that cost me."

His grim words hit home, and Mingchao sagged her shoulders in shame. "Okay."

Her friend sighed. Could he blame her? Anyone's interest would be piqued by the discovery of half a gun found nailed shut in a box that was found floating down a canal.

"Well…" he started hesitantly, "if it matters that much to you, you can go ahead and see if you can sell it."

"Like I need your permission," Mingchao shot back.

Baskerville only chuckled.


	4. The Queen's Devil

He knew that familiar ache in his chest. Every heartbeat was a reminder of the inevitable.

Baskerville sat up in bed and rubbed his breast. _Not again_ , he thought miserably. Throwing off the blankets, he stepped lightly to the kitchen in the darkness. He knew every board that creaked, and made sure upon moving into the house _where_ they creaked, in case someday…

He pressed hand to his chest again and winced when he pulled open a cupboard and grasped a bottle, but upon handling it he realized how light it was. He gaped at the empty bottle. _Not again!_

He gripped the bottle sullenly and set it down on the table, and then plopped down in a chair. Mingchao had gotten into the whiskey again! Leaning back in the chair, he stared up at the ceiling, scowling at the throbbing pain that seemed to wrap itself around his ribs and squeeze them with every pump of his heart.

Baskerville wasn't much of a drinker. He never had been, because he liked to keep his senses sharp and alert, yet every once in a while he had maybe one or two drinks, especially at times like this. That's why he kept at least one bottle reserved for him alone. Mingchao was absolutely forbidden to touch it, and he thought she understood. Maybe she didn't.

He sighed, pushed his long blond hair back, and headed back to his room, carefully avoiding each board that creaked out of habit. Not that he was afraid to wake up Mingchao. The girl really did sleep like a log at the bottom of a deep, dark lake.

He threw on some plain clothes over a strap he had put around his abdomen. The strap was designed to hold his throwing knives if he ever needed them. These days he felt he was using them less and less, and hoped he wasn't getting rusty, but he guessed the infrequent use was supposed to be a good sign. He pulled on a slim brown glove over his right hand to hide the scar of the Eto Gun symbol. He really didn't like it being a conversation piece, nor did he want anyone to make the connection to its power. Most importantly of all, he wore the cross his late little sister had given him, something he never took off. He was careful to place it under his shirt to keep it from twisting and turning around freely. The last thing he wanted was that sinister wedding dress symbol showing itself to anyone. He had yet to find someone able to shave it off.

The throbbing hadn't ebbed by the time Baskerville stepped outside the front door and carefully locked it. The cool night air was refreshing, but it'd take more than nice air to cure him. The pain would only keep him up anyway, so he felt it might be good for him to get out. He rarely ever went out in plain clothes, but he figured it'd be too suspicious if a priest were seen in the city in the dead of night.

Throwing on a hat as the last addition to his getup, he pulled it low over his face. He made his way down the trail and into the city where the lights glittered to welcome those seeking to enjoy the nightlife.

Tonight seemed busier than usual as Baskerville pushed past the seemingly endless sea of bodies that crowded the street like salmon during the spawn. The air reeked of alcohol, cigar smoke, and sweat. From every building down the main road came boisterous laughter, reveling, music, and singing. The sounds and lights spilled out onto the street.

Baskerville had only one place in mind, and he spotted the conspicuous building a short way from where he was standing. It was painted a gaudy green color, which made it more unusual in appearance than its competitors. Giant letters were painted exquisitely across a broad sign which read "The Queen's Devil."

Approaching the steps, he couldn't help but snort at the memory of the first time he and Mingchao had come to this saloon. Mingchao thought the name was scary and was hesitant to go in, but after some coaxing he was able to get her to go inside. The saloon ended up being quite a classy place with top-notch entertainment, food, and drinks. Now with the money they were able to acquire from the gold, they could afford to come here more often.

Before he pushed through the doors, he happened to glance to his left at the horses tied up at the hitching posts—and once again had a double-take. Baskerville narrowed his eyes at the horse closest to him, and spied a small brand on the hindquarters. Although it wasn't unusual for a horse to be branded, he thought the image wasn't typical. It appeared to be a hummingbird. Earlier that day, after leaving the restaurant, he'd seen that same brand on another horse hitched outside.

Scratching his head, he gazed at the horse until he passed through the doors. The sounds of the saloon assaulted him and only seemed to make his chest ache all the more, but he picked his way past tables and people until he reached the slick, polished bar. He took a seat, keeping his head low until the bartender came his way.

Baskerville wasn't worried that the bartender, Brawny Mullins, would recognize him as the priest who frequented the saloon with a little Chinese girl like brother and sister. Mullins was a well-liked individual who respected the privacy of all his customers. He didn't ask questions or poke and prod at peoples' personal lives. That's why Baskerville had decided to trust him.

"The usual?" Mullins asked in a rusty voice, the result of smoking too much over the years. He was a hefty man on the muscular side, with broad shoulders and a face like chiseled stone. Few dared to arouse his ire, and those who did would pay a dangerous price. The man was once a professional boxer after all.

"Actually, I think something stronger might do tonight," Baskerville replied in a low voice. Mullins frowned at this change of mind, but nodded and went on pouring a drink.

"This is new stuff, just come in from yesterday," the large man said. Baskerville took a whiff of the drink, and smiled crookedly back at the bartender.

"You know my tastes," he said, and downed the drink, exhaling deeply. Finally the pain was starting to fade.

He was just beginning to relax and watch the crowd when he became vaguely aware of soft whimpering coming from somewhere down the length of the bar. Trying to block out the strange sound, his eyes scanned the faces of the people bustling about the building. He couldn't help but wonder who owned the hummingbird-branded horse. The symbol seemed feminine, so he figured maybe the horse belonged to a woman.

A sudden outburst of sobbing caused Baskerville to nearly jump out of his seat and spill his second drink. He snapped his head in the direction of the sound and saw other people were similarly startled. They were all staring at one individual sitting at the bar about five seats away from Baskerville. The figure was sitting facedown at the counter, its arms hanging limply down in front of it. Baskerville couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman, because the person was wearing a hood and long cape that seemed to cover them almost entirely. Could this be the person who owned the horse outside? He didn't recall seeing anyone like this at the restaurant this morning, though.

"Poor soul," Mullins said after appearing in front of Baskerville behind the bar. He was drying a newly washed shot glass and staring idly back at the sad figure. Baskerville gave the man a sidelong glance. He didn't sound particularly sympathetic.

"How long has this person been here?" Baskerville asked.

"Since early this morning," the bartender replied. "Can't seem to get rid of 'em!"

_Since this morning?_ Baskerville scratched at the stubble on his cheek as he considered the depressed person. So it wasn't the owner of the horse. What could be so horrible that someone would spend an entire day at a saloon getting drunk? Well, there could be numerous reasons, really.

The whimpering continued down the bar, and finally Baskerville couldn't take it anymore. Rising from his seat, he slowly approached the figure. Mullins looked as if he was about to say something, but he stopped short and decided to watch.

Baskerville was puzzled as he stood next to the sad figure. He—or she—didn't even look up to see who it was that was casting a shadow over them.

"Hey," he said, nudging the person's shrouded shoulder. "You don't look well. How about I buy you a drink?" He tried to put as much kindness in his voice as he could, but the person's whining was getting on his nerves. Still the figure would not look up at him. "Listen, you've been here all day. Maybe you should get a hotel and rest up. I can take you to a nice one if you want. I'll even pay."

To his relief, the person finally raised their head from off the table and turned in his direction. The hood of their cape was still pulled down low, so the person's face was shadowed and hidden from view.

"Would you like that?" Baskerville asked hopefully, peering into the dark hood. Slowly, the person's hand came up and tugged the hood down.

Baskerville nearly fell backwards, his heart almost doing him in. He staggered back a few steps and his hand instinctively reached for the belt inside his shirt, but then he suddenly drew it back.

"B…" The word couldn't get past his lips. He couldn't believe the person he was seeing was the same one. "Benkate!"


	5. Gunfighter's Sorrow

Baskerville stared aghast at the person before him. The woman's red hair spilled over her shoulders in unkempt strings, and her face was gaunt and haggard. Even her clothes were filthy. The eyes that were fixed on him from that alien visage were empty and glossed over from drinking too much alcohol, and he wondered if she even recognized him.

"Benkate?" Baskerville asked hesitantly. He bent over to get a closer look at her face. _This IS Benkate!_ "Are you…all right? What _happened_ to you?"

Benkate simply stared back dumbly with her mouth hanging open. "Heeey," she slurred, leaning forward and nearly coming nose-to-nose with Baskerville. She lazily brought up her finger and pushed it into his chest. "Yer that _guy_ I know."

"Yes! It's me, Baskerville! You remember me, don't you? Let's say I take—" Before he could finish, the woman lurched forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. The smell of alcohol on her breath was almost overwhelming. Baskerville turned his head in Mullins's direction. The bartender looked mortified, which was the first time Baskerville had even seen that expression on the tough man's face.

"Benkate—"

"Yer not gonna believe this, Baskey!" Benkate howled, once again drawing the attention of several people standing nearby. "They… They took my…!"

"Benkate, maybe we should go outside—"

"THEY TOOK MY GUUUNS!"

Baskerville gasped. "You're…guns?" Now that he looked at her, he didn't see the usual gun earrings peeking out from her mess of hair, and the boots that hid guns in the heels were no longer on her legs. She wore a pair of generic, unassuming boots in place of her old ones. " _All_ of them?"

Benkate sobbed. "Yesh."

"Who took them?" Baskerville pulled her off of him and placed his hands firmly on her shoulders. Benkate's eyes went wide, and they began darting from side to side as if she was trying to think of the words and bring them through the foggy curtain of her mind.

Baskerville sighed. "You don't know, do you?"

"No," Benkate squeaked, hanging her head in shame. "But they—But they took _all_ of them; all one hundred!" Her words were so slurred that Baskerville almost didn't catch that last part.

"One hundred? Benkate, the last time we met, you only had ninety-nine," he reminded her. With how drunk she was, he was surprised this conversation was even going anywhere.

Benkate leaned against him. "I gots my last one… I gots it after I left yous and Ming—Mong—Chi—oh, that one girl!"

Baskerville directed her back to her seat at the bar, and took the one next to her. He was having a hard time having sympathy for his former rival. She did nothing but swindle people and kill them for the sake of collecting one-hundred rare and exotic guns. She almost did the same with Mingchao, but in the end she couldn't bring herself to betray her new friend. Otherwise Baskerville would've had something to say about it.

Benkate planted the side of her face on the bar, and stared in agony at the polished surface. She remained silent until Baskerville finally said something. "So… How long ago was this? How long have you been in Los Angeles?"

"It happened a week ago," Benkate said quietly, still gazing at the counter. "I just got here this morning."

_And you've been here ever since_ , he thought grimly as Mullins placed another drink in front of him. He downed it and turned back to his companion. "What do you plan to do now?"

There was a strained silence for about five seconds before Benkate sat up stiffly. She turned to look at him, and the bleary light in her eyes was replaced with one of sharp determination. "I'm gonna get 'em back!" She slammed her hand down on the counter and called, "Bartender! Another drink!"

"I think you've had enough, miss," Mullins replied in a stern voice.

Baskerville nodded. "I think he's right, Benkate. You know, Mingchao and I have a place you can—"

"Aw, forget it!" Benkate stood up suddenly, knocking her stool over. "I don't need you! I don't need anybody! I'll get my guns back myself!" Throwing a vicious glare in the bartender's direction, Benkate then turned her attention back to Baskerville. He sat dumbfounded by this sudden outburst, and was even more startled when Benkate suddenly leaned over and put her hands on his face.

"You know, Baskey," she slurred, "I always kinda liked you. I always found that knife-slingin' thing of yers to be kinda sexy." She grinned at her own audacity.

Baskerville was only aware of his skin crawling at that moment. He continued to sit on his stool like a statue, even after Benkate had swaggered off into the crowd and disappeared.

Mullins warily crept up next him. "My. That woman's gotta be the most…bizarre female I've ever seen. And she's a heckuva _ugly_ one, too!"

Baskerville was able to reply after the feeling of his crawling skin had subsided. "Mullins, another drink please." He placed his elbows on the table and stared down at the new drink in front of him. _I tried._ Mingchao would've been delighted to see Benkate again, but if Benkate was going to be this antisocial then maybe it was better Mingchao didn't. Perhaps he could try and find her again in the morning.

The reveling continued into the night, and a performance started on the small but fancy stage of the Queen's Devil. People gathered around it, laughing and cheering. There were many people dressed finely in expensive clothes, drinking the highest priced drinks the saloon had to offer. Enormous plates of food were being served by scantily clad waitresses who sweetly thanked the patronage of the men who ogled at them.

Before Baskerville realized it, the crowd began to thin out as the night wore on, and he found he was growing tired. The alcohol had done the trick to ease the pain in his chest, and now he felt he would be able to sleep.

Laying money on the counter for his final bill, he was about to get up when two figures on each side of him sat down suddenly on the stools. Surprised, he glanced beside him at these newcomers, and then noticed Mullins was nowhere to be seen. These people weren't here to order drinks.

He eyed them suspiciously. "Can I help you?" He couldn't see the faces of the strangers for their long coats and hoods, but from their small figures he thought they might be women.

"We have some questions for you," said the figure directly on his right. It was definitely a woman's voice, but the voice was authoritative and hard.

"About what?" Baskerville asked casually, letting his hand slip to his lap so he could reach for his knives in time.

"You will cooperate with us," said the figure on his left. This one had a sweeter, smaller voice, but it still contained that stern tone like the other did.

"What do you—" Baskerville started, but was cut off when the woman on his left held up something brown and shiny between her slender index finger and thumb. "That's…" Baskerville's breath caught in his throat when he realized what it was. _It's a lock of Mingchao's hair!_

"You will cooperate with us," the figure on his left repeated as the lock of hair was replaced into a pocket in the folds of her coat.

Glancing nervously behind him, Baskerville was dismayed to see that most of the people had left the building. Only a few drunks were left leaning over in their chairs at the tables. And where the heck was Mullins?!

He glared back at the women sitting next to him. He had killed women in the past, and he wouldn't hesitate to do it now, especially if they've done something to Mingchao. He knew Mingchao would disapprove of it, but sometimes such steps were necessary if he wanted to protect those he cared about.

"What do you want?" he asked in a low voice, mentally kicking himself for leaving the house that night. Without the Eto Gun, Mingchao had no other way to defend herself. It was likely these women broke in and ambushed her while she slept. There was no way she could've gotten to the Eto Gun and the animal essences in time.

"We were informed of an incident that took place today," said the authoritative figure on his right. "Your friend found an unusual box that we're very interested in."

Baskerville grimaced. _I should've known!_ He knew to leave weird stuff alone! "If you want it, you can take it. We have no use for it. We don't even know what it is." His hand was growing tense. It was itching to draw his knives.

There was silence from the women for a moment, and then the figure on his right responded. "It's not there."

Baskerville was stunned. "What do you mean? We had it just this afternoon! Mingchao said she wanted to see if she could sell it, but at the end of the day she had no luck. It has to be in the house!"

The figures looked at one another thoughtfully, and then the person on his right spoke. "We have the girl. She claims she sold it to an oddity shop here in town, but we've already checked that place out and they have no record of any girl selling them half a gun. Indeed, it's in the house, but the girl refuses to talk."

Baskerville ground his teeth and considered his situation. There were four of them, and he could easily take them on, but with his position at the counter it would be difficult for him to draw his knives. These women probably carried guns as well, and no doubt they were likely quick draws. If he could take them out of the picture, then he would be able to rescue Mingchao from whoever was holding her hostage back at the house. He didn't know how many people were watching there, but it didn't matter to him even if it were a hundred.

"Then I'll go back with you and help you find it," he said. "Just please don't hurt Mingchao. It was an accident that we came across this box." He hoped this would work, and watched their reactions.

"That sounds like a grand idea," the woman on his right said. By now Baskerville concluded that this was likely the leader of the group. They stood in unison and the two closest to him grabbed him under the arms and hauled him up forcefully. He was shocked by their unusual strength despite their small size. He stood at least a head above all of them.

They pushed him along as they came close to the door, but before they reached it Baskerville quickly broke free and jumped back to relieve his itching hand of its desire. The knives should've struck true except for the fact that these tiny women appeared to be faster than he expected.

A gunshot splintered the wood at his feet and grazed the side of his face as he pulled down a large table and dove behind it. He grasped more knives in his fingers. How could they have been faster than him?

"You cannot hide," one of the women spoke gravely. "We have the girl."

Wincing, Baskerville waited for the footsteps to come closer, but to his surprise they stopped. He heard murmuring among the women, as if they were discussing something, and while they were busy he took the opportunity to dart toward another table in the saloon, one that was closer to the door. A few more gunshots cracked at his feet as he lay gasping behind the downed table. _I'm in no condition to be doing this anymore!_

He glanced over at the door of the saloon, but he knew he shouldn't leave just yet. If they stopped pursuing him beyond the door and thought he escaped, then who knows what they might to do Mingchao? He had to get them here and now.

Once again he heard the murmuring, their voices so low he couldn't make out the words, but he decided it was time to make the final move. He didn't know what was distracting them, but now was the opportunity.

He jumped up from behind the table and hurled the knives at the women. He was confident that there should be a hit, because even the members of the Syndicate once said his throws were faster than bullets, and he had yet to hear another gunshot from any of the women.

The women stood perfectly still, even as the knives were aimed between their eyes. Not one made a move to duck or dodge. Instead, a sharp ring lightly rattled the air, and Baskerville thought he saw something zip across the room at a speed so fast that he almost didn't see it.

He blinked when he saw the results of his throw. The knives had fallen well away from their targets, lying on the floor in utter defeat. But he couldn't linger on his puzzlement. He drew his hand back to throw another volley of knives. The women still hadn't moved, looking like mannequins in a store window.

This time his weapons never left his fingers. He felt a sharp pain on his cheek. Another pain cut at the hand holding the knives, and then another on his right thigh. Finally, he saw a few of his blond hairs float down in front of his face.

It was a few moments before Baskerville managed to turn his head to look at the wall behind him. His mouth dropped open at the sight of four _pencils_ lodged in the wood.

"We said you would cooperate," said a familiar small voice, and the women started toward him. Once more Baskerville reached into his shirt for knives, but another of the pencils struck him in his throwing arm.

He gasped and slid down to the floor, biting back a cry of agony as he glared fiercely at the women approaching him. If only didn't have his condition! His body couldn't take anymore. He couldn't fight anymore. _I'm sorry, Mingchao._

Two of the women roughly grabbed him up by his arms, and he cried out in pain when his injured arm was squeezed. One woman carelessly yanked the pencil out and tossed it to a fifth figure standing behind the bar.

"Thank you, Siren," she said, and the shrouded figure nodded as she wiped the blood off the pencil with a hand towel and replaced it back into her cloak.


	6. Captured

The cloaked women nearly dragged Baskerville down the road and towards the house. The crickets seemed louder than usual to his ears, and every push of the breeze set his nerves on fire. His arm was throbbing from where the pencil hit him and was still bleeding. It irked him that the women didn’t even bother to try and help him with it, but he supposed there was no reason for them to care.

As they came near to the house, Baskerville saw that there was a light in the kitchen, and two dark figures stood on the front steps, waiting.

“The girl is fine,” the leader assured him in a low voice. “It’s not our custom to harm children.”

Baskerville eyed her skeptically. _Right_. He knew these kinds of people. He worked with them once, and knew their thought patterns. He wouldn’t be surprised if she was lying. _If there’s even one scratch on Mingchao…_

The light from the kitchen blinded him momentarily before his eyes focused on the small form strapped to a chair by the table. She wore only a long night shirt and her hair was loose about her shoulders. Mingchao immediately lurched forward, almost toppling her chair. She muffled loudly through the gag around her mouth, her eyes pleading.

One of the cloaked women removed the gag, and Mingchao exploded into shouts. “Mr. Priest! Please help me! _Do something_! They’ve had me tied here for an hour! _And they took away the Eto Gun_!” Her eyes brimmed with tears, and then they went wide. “They hurt you!! They’re so mean!” She glared furiously at the leader standing next to him.

Baskerville wasn’t concerned about the Eto Gun. The women weren’t here for that. Likely they threw it in a corner somewhere after grabbing Mingchao. At this moment he really couldn’t care less about it.

One of his captors prodded him ahead with a gun muzzle, and then the leader spoke. “Little girl, tell us where the gun grip is.”

Mingchao only stared frantically at Baskerville, looking torn. “But I—”

“You did not sell it,” the leader cut her off. “Did you throw it away somewhere?”

“No,” Mingchao said in a small voice. The women then turned their attention to Baskerville. He could tell Mingchao wasn’t expecting them to capture him, too, and was now feeling terribly guilty.

“Mingchao, please tell them where it is,” he said. “It’s all they want.”

The girl looked off to the side sheepishly and then back at the others. “It’s…in my secret box.”

“And where is your secret box?” the leader asked.

Mingchao chewed on her bottom lip as she looked down at the floor. “If you let me go, I can go get it,” she said, and turned her face to the leader. “Please? My arms hurt…”

The women looked from one to another, and then at their leader. She nodded, and Mingchao’s bindings were cut. Rubbing her wrists, she stood up on her sore ankles. “It’s in my room,” she said, and one of the women followed her into the darkness of the house.

There was a tense silence while the others waited, and Baskerville listened carefully to the creaking boards as the girl and her captor moved towards the room. His eyes focused hard on the darkness ahead of him, waiting for Mingchao to return.

“We should probably get that arm of yours taken care of,” the leader suddenly said, startling him out of his concentration. He was surprised they would bother, because he figured they’d kill them both anyway once they got the grip. “Fortune!” the leader barked, and a figure stepped through the door from outside. Baskerville mentally counted that there were now seven captors in all. Where were these people coming from?

Mingchao and her escort had arrived in time to find him seated at the table with one of the women carefully cleaning his wound. Mingchao paused at seeing this, and gazed worriedly at the open gash. Her eyes flashed angrily and she huffed.

After the one named Fortune tied off the bandage on Baskerville’s arm, the leader ordered Mingchao to take a seat and show them what was in the box. The girl’s face blushed brightly as she hesitantly removed the lid of the box.

“This box has all my secrets, but I guess it’s not really a secret anymore,” she said, her face fallen. Everyone leaned forward to look inside. The box itself was only about the size of a shoebox, so it didn’t hold much, but they didn’t immediately see the gun grip anywhere.

Mingchao pulled out a few oddities that puzzled them all. A cork, a pencil, a brown chunk that looked like chocolate, a small piece of driftwood, a melted candle stick, a peach seed, a can of shoe polish, a pair of shades, and half of a wanted poster of Benkate! Among it all was a conspicuously shaped bundle.

Baskerville’s brow creased. “Mingchao, what is this stuff?”

“Is this a joke?” one of the women growled, crossing her arms.

“No! This _is_ my secret box, and here,” Mingchao picked out the bundle, “is the stupid ‘gun’ you want.” She unwrapped the cloth and slapped the handle down on the table. “There.”

The leader immediately snatched it up and examined it. Nodding, she addressed her comrades, “This is it, no doubt about it. It’s a miracle we were able to get our hands on it finally.”

Mingchao crossed her arms, and Baskerville glanced back at the leader. “So now will you leave us alone? You have what you came for,” he said.

The leader stopped her scrutiny of the gun. “I’m afraid we can’t do that.”

Baskerville flinched. _I knew it!_

Much to his surprise, the woman’s hands came up and pulled back her hood. Before them stood a young woman with jet black hair that hung down in curls around her elegant face, and blazing green eyes that actually regarded her prisoners with concern.

“If we leave you now, we won’t be the only ‘visitors’ you get,” the green-eyed woman explained, looking at them with pity. “We had to act fast when we discovered who found the box, because if _they_ found you first…you would be in much worse shape than you are now.”

Baskerville narrowed his eyes at the woman. “And who are _you_ exactly, and who is this ‘they’ you speak of?” He was expecting the worst, and silently cursed that gun handle.

The others in the room stiffened at his question, and Mingchao moved closer to him, grabbing onto his uninjured arm.

“Uh—“ one of the captors started, but the leader held up her hand to silence her.

“I see you’re not aware of the danger here,” the leader said with all seriousness. “What you’ve found here is highly sought after by two groups. One being ours and the other being our enemies.”

_Honestly, though, I can’t tell which of you would be the good guys_ , Baskerville thought resentfully. Maybe neither of them was.

“And what’s so great about that gun anyway?” Mingchao asked, the anger gone from her face. She had noticeably relaxed and was no longer clinging to Baskerville. “I can’t imagine why someone would want it.”

“It was made to look that way,” the leader replied. She took a seat at the table while her comrades gathered around here. None of them had removed their hoods as she had. “It is one of two parts of a gun, as you can well imagine. We don’t know the original name of the gun, but it’s been nicknamed the Firebrand.” She steepled her fingers in front of her face as she set her elbows on the table’s surface. “And _they_ have the other half.”

“What does the gun do?! Is it amazing? I have an amazing gun!” Mingchao gushed, but Baskerville shushed her.

“I think by its name we can easily assume what it does,” Baskerville told her, and the girl shut her mouth tightly.

“Our goal is to obtain the other half of the gun…and then dispose of it,” the leader explained, and the two friends perked up at this strange idea.

“But…why?” Mingchao asked slowly. “Don’t you want to use it?”

The woman scoffed. “Heavens, no! We hate the gun, and we hate the group that has the other half. We want nothing more than for both to disappear from the face of the earth.” A murmur of agreement sounded among the women, and the two friends looked at each other in confusion.

A shout rang out from outside the open door. “Vixen!” The leader turned in her chair and peered outside from her seat, a look of extreme annoyance crossing her face.

“What is it now?” she said through clenched teeth.

“We found ourselves a rat,” a voice said from outside. A struggle could be heard, along with grunts and curses.

“Let go of me, you fiends!” someone spat, and Baskerville slapped his palm to his face, moaning wearily.

Two more cloaked figures dragged in a struggling woman by her arms, while a third held a gun aimed from behind. That made ten captors now, and three prisoners.

“How many of you are there?” Baskerville asked, but his question was ignored when Mingchao let out a joyful shriek.

“BENKATE!” She dashed away from Baskerville’s side and stood grinning happily in front of the redheaded gunfighter. “What are you doing here?!”

“Um, hey, Mingchao,” Benkate greeted with nervous laughter. “Long time no see, eh? How long’s it been? A year maybe?”

“Quit chatting and sit your skinny butt down,” said the figure behind her, and Benkate was forced to a place in the corner of the kitchen where she sat on the floor.

“You were eavesdropping,” the leader, named “Vixen,” observed.

Benkate glared at her arrogantly. “Yeah, so?”

“We don’t like eavesdroppers.”

“No, please!” Mingchao cried out, running over and standing in front of her companion. “She’s my friend! She’s a good person!”

Vixen exchanged wry smiles with her cloaked cohorts, and Baskerville scowled. _This just keeps getting weirder and weirder. Or maybe worse and worse._                                               

* * *

 

“We don’t believe you’ll be safe after what’s happened,” Vixen explained to the three confused friends. “Our enemies will likely want to question you about your find, and usually they’re always one step ahead of us. You ought to be thankful we got to you first.”

“Thankful?” Benkate said in disbelief. “For what? Tying up Mingchao, stabbing Baskerville, and holding me at gunpoint? How are your enemies any different?”

Vixen’s next words bit like the fangs of a rattlesnake. “They wouldn’t hesitate to kill all of you and then torch your house, whether or not you gave them the information they wanted. Then they would cover it up and claim the fire was a horrible accident, and proceed to gather your family together and arrange a funeral at their group’s expense.”

Mingchao shivered next to Baskerville.

“Then what do you suggest?” Baskerville asked, not even trying to keep the sarcasm from his tone. “You continue to hold us prisoner for our own ‘safety’?”

“And who are these guys you’re up against?” Mingchao prodded. “If _you_ want to get rid of the gun, then what do they want it for?”

Vixen’s green eyes slid over in the girl’s direction. “Why else? They want more power to expand their organization, and they believe this gun can offer them that. We cannot allow them to succeed, not after all they’ve done to us and those before us.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms in front of her. “They’re called the Olympus Order, and they’ve been around for many years, even before I was born, or anyone else in this group for that matter. They pretend to be a charitable organization with concerns for the community and this country, but we know the truth.” Vixen’s eyes almost flared red. “They’re nothing but liars, thieves, and murderers. They weasel their way into power structures in order to have influence over leaders in hopes of gaining control, so they can get whatever they want.

“Then they put on a mask of charity and love for unity to get into the good graces of the public,” Vixen continued. “People find it attractive to join their little club not only because of that, but also because they’re a secret society. They have secret rituals and gatherings, and everyone likes a good mystery, plus it enhances one’s status. A new member starts at the bottom of the food chain, ignorant of the Order’s true nature. As he moves up, his personality and reactions are evaluated to see if he is true Order material. If not, he is eliminated.”

Mingchao shuddered. “That’s terrible!”

Such things were nothing new to Baskerville. If anything, it almost sounded exactly like the Syndicate. “Then why don’t you infiltrate their group by pretending you want to join?”

“Yeah, give them a taste of their own medicine!” Mingchao chimed in. “Maybe that way you can steal the other half of the gun!”

“It’s not that easy,” Vixen said, “because they’re a group made up of only men.”

A sudden burst of laughter interrupted their serious conversation, and everyone’s attention fixed on the sitting figure in the corner.

Benkate sneered. “I see now. That’s why all I see here are women!”

“Yeah…” Mingchao wondered aloud. She’d just noticed. “How come you’re all girls?”

The usual uncomfortable silence descended on the room, and Vixen’s gaze shone with a hard light. “Because each of us has had a male family member join the Order…and they’ve since perished.”


	7. Friendly Foes

Mingchao’s loud snoring was the only sound in the dark room. She shifted in her sleep and leaned harder on Baskerville’s arm. His mind, however, was on the situation at hand.

The women had put Benkate, Mingchao, and him into Mingchao’s bedroom, with Benkate sitting on the opposite end of the room from where the other two sat on the floor. She hadn’t said much since the conversation in the kitchen, and Baskerville knew her well enough to know she was deep in thought.

He heard footsteps outside the door as the two guards beyond it were changing the watch, and he knew two more were right outside the window. The idea was to keep them “safe” until a better solution could be found for them. Baskerville found himself grinding his teeth the whole time.

“Hey, Baskerville,” Benkate finally spoke. “Nice place you have here.”

“What were you doing eavesdropping outside my house?” he asked irritably, ignoring her compliment. “I thought you were so drunk you’d go pass out somewhere.”

“I did, on the boardwalk right outside the Queen’s Devil,” Benkate explained. “I woke up to the sound of a scuffle going on inside the saloon, so I waited and watched from outside. When I saw it was you they were after, I thought I’d follow to see if I could help you out.”

“But you couldn’t because you don’t have your guns. Now you’ve only gotten yourself involved in another gun mess.”

“Hey now,” Benkate grumbled. “I really did want to help, and what’s so bad going after another rare gun?” Her grin was almost lewd. “It’s my favorite hobby.”

“Of course, but don’t you have other fish to fry,” Baskerville reminded her, “like getting your gun collection back?”

Benkate nodded eagerly. “Yeah, that too, but I think I just got my first clue as to where I can start looking.” The redhead wet her lips and glared into the darkness of the room. “Those women said the Olympus Order was looking to get the Firebrand completed, and that helped jog my memory as to what happened that day when I was ambushed and robbed.”

Baskerville leaned over with interest. “You mean you remember who did it?”

Benkate glowered. “I don’t know who they were, but they were dead set on stripping me of my guns. Not long after I left you and Mingchao, I managed to swipe my one-hundredth gun off some bozo in the D.C. After that I decided to go ahead and retire somewhere, so I headed for San Francisco to take care of some business, and then I would head to Mexico. Took me months, but all the while I didn’t realize I was being followed. They didn’t act until I got to the border of Nevada and California, in some narrow canyon in the middle of nowhere.” She looked down at the floor as she recalled the events. “It’s not unusual for a gang to be made up of only men, but these guys dressed alike, and said odd things while they pinned me down and took my guns.

“They would say things like, ‘She may be a “sister”’ and ‘See if she has it on her.’ At that time I thought it was revenge for stealing that gun in D.C., and that I had underestimated that guy I stole the gun from. But I didn’t have time to think about it because they started beating me and left me for dead.”

“So that’s why you looked so terrible when I saw you,” said Baskerville.

“I practically crawled my way here,” Benkate said glumly, “and headed for the first saloon that looked inviting. I would never have guessed I’d see you there, and now we’re caught up in this gang of women. What a bizarre twist of fate.”

Mingchao stirred next to Baskerville and rubbed her eyes. “Mmnn, what time is it?”

“It’s close to morning,” Baskerville told her, glancing at the window and seeing the lightening sky. “We haven’t heard from the women since they put us in here.”

“How long are they gonna make us wait?” Mingchao said, sounding discouraged.

“Hopefully not much longer,” Baskerville assured her. “Did you want to sleep on the bed?” Although the women had stripped the bed down to its straw mattress and removed most of the furniture from the room, it was probably more comfortable than sleeping on the hard floor.

“No, I’m awake now. I just wish they’d hurry up and talk to us again,” the girl replied, and then turned her glare to the snickering woman opposite her. “What’s with you, Benkate?”

“Hey, Baskey, you gonna get on the bed with her? I’m sure that’d make her more comfortable,” Benkate taunted.

“You shut up, Benkate!” Mingchao snapped. “Your mind’s always in the gutter!”

Baskerville said nothing, though his eye twitched. Benkate’s stupid jokes were getting old. He didn’t find them funny at all, but quickly his attention turned toward the approaching footsteps coming to the door.

The door swung open and Vixen stepped through carrying a lantern. “We’ve decided,” she declared. The three prisoners on the floor watched expectantly. “We will have one of our members watch over you and act as a bodyguard.”

“For how long?” Baskerville asked. “Forever? How long will it take for you to end your feud with the Olympus Order?” It made him indignant that these women thought he and the other two needed their protection, as if they weren’t perfectly capable of doing it themselves. _Watch over us? More like they want to keep an eye on us in case we do something they don’t like. We’ve seen the face of their leader, after all._

“Until we feel the danger has passed,” Vixen answered softly. “The Olympus Order is very careful, and anyone having even a slight connection—no matter how insignificant—is watched for a long time before they are cleared of suspicion. However, now that you’ve met with us, it may be quite a while before they take their eyes off you. It’s best this way.”

“What about me?” Benkate asked.

 “You will stay,” Vixen said simply, but before Benkate could protest she added, “Because it is likely that you weren’t the only one listening in on us this night.” She smiled mischievously. “They’ve got you in their crosshairs.”

Growling to herself, Benkate leaned against the wall and didn’t speak again.

“So where is this bodyguard you told us about?” asked Baskerville.

“She will arrive within the next few days. We have some preparations to make before she can come,” Vixen clarified.

“So you’re leaving us alone until then?” Mingchao’s voice trembled. “I thought you just said you were going to watch over us?”

Vixen smiled at her with sympathy. “We are fortunate today, because at this moment the Order is at its weakest. Their branch leader for Los Angeles is away on a voyage to the Northwest, and despite their second-in-command they cannot make a move against us without explicit consent from their leader. They may watch, but they can’t act.”

With a strange kindness, the still-hooded women replaced the furniture in the room, and even made up the bed for Mingchao. The three friends watched this with utter amazement. It looked like nothing had ever happened.

After setting the room back up, Vixen carried in Baskerville’s knife belt, the Eto Gun, and the only gun Benkate had on her. It was a simple revolver, so unlike her style. Vixen tossed them on the bed and glanced at Baskerville.

“Until then, please be wary, and take care,” she said, but before she could turn away, Baskerville stopped her.

“Wait, you didn’t tell us who you are,” he urged. A look of surprise came over Vixen’s face when he said this.

“Oh? And all this time I thought you knew,” she replied. “All right, then, but first I should tell you this: none of this ever happened. You must not tell anyone of our visit tonight. If you do, then you’ll likely catch the attention of some unsavory characters, many of which are members of the Order.” Making sure the three understood her words, she then concluded, “We are the Dawn Posse.”                                        

* * *

Mingchao picked at her morning meal in the kitchen three days later with a blank look on her face. Things hadn’t been the same since the Dawn Posse came. The three of them rarely left the house unless it was absolutely necessary, and spent sleepless nights listening to the sounds outside and in the house. Everyone’s mood was grim. She was downcast most of the time, Baskerville was cranky, and Benkate was always sulking. The hours that crept by were agonizing. What’s even worse was Baskerville’s chest aches were becoming more frequent, probably because of stress.

Benkate was sitting across from Mingchao at the table, concentrating on the patterns in the wood grains. Her arms rested on the back of the chair which she had faced toward the table.

“I wonder…” she mumbled.

Mingchao looked up from her food. “You wonder what?”

“Well,” Benkate began hesitantly, “for a while I was wondering if we could just hightail outta here and disappear somehow. I’m sure it’d be no loss to this Dawn Posse. If they’re so darn concerned about our safety, then it shouldn’t bother them if we ditch this place.”

“But…this is my home. And Mr. Priest’s home,” Mingchao said, saddened by the idea of leaving. Benkate glanced up at those last words.

“You can make your home anywhere. I’ve always done it that way, though it’s been a long time since I’ve called any place home. And why do you still call him ‘Mr. Priest’? He ain’t a priest.”

“He said it was fine,” Mingchao replied. “Besides, he dresses like one when he goes outside, and it’s sorta like a last name, too.” This was true, as sometimes he would call himself Baskerville Priest, just to avoid confusion when he wasn’t in costume.

Benkate chuckled. “Mingchao Priest. You wanna be Mrs. Priest?”

The girl blushed. “You’re so gross, Benkate! And what about you? I’ve never seen _you_ with a man!”

“I don’t need a man, that’s why!” Benkate shouted.

The henpecking continued until they were interrupted by a sudden voice that burst into song right outside the front door.

Startled, the two scattered their chairs and dashed to the door. Benkate had her gun firmly in her hand, and Mingchao had the Eto Gun ready in hers with a small bottle of animal essence extract in the other.

Standing on either side of the entry, Mingchao slowly opened it while Benkate stood at the ready and peeked out.

Outside, at the bottom of the steps with her back to them, stood a woman sweeping the packed earth free of leaves and pine needles. She didn’t acknowledge them, and continued with her song.

Benkate and Mingchao were stupefied by this spectacle, so finally Mingchao called out.

“Um, hello?” she said meekly. “Why are you sweeping our porch?”

At last the woman turned to regard them. She was smiling broadly and her hazel eyes were bright with mischief. Her eyebrows rose in feigned surprise. “Me? Why, I thought you’d have guessed.”

Mingchao took a closer look at the stranger’s appearance. The woman almost looked boyish with her bobbed haircut, its chestnut hue warm in the sunlight. She wore brown breeches tucked into knee-high boots, and a white collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up just before the elbows. Leaning on the broom, the stranger watched Mingchao’s reaction.

“You’re the one who was sent to us,” Mingchao finally deduced, relaxing her grip on her gun.

“Unless she’s some kind of a wandering lunatic,” Benkate whispered under her breath.

The woman scowled at her. “I heard that. Yes, I’m the one who was sent here to watch you. Vixen gave me strict orders not to let you out of my sight.”

“And what’s your name? Or are we going to have to call you ‘Hey You’?” Benkate asked. The stranger didn’t hesitate to answer.

“My name’s Rommie Linehart, and I’ll be your babysitter.”


	8. Duty to Help

Rommie stepped into the house and at once began investigating the rooms. Benkate and Mingchao followed close behind, unsure of what she was doing. She would touch the walls, look into tight spaces, and examine the ceiling.

“Um, what are you looking for?” Mingchao asked curiously. Rommie turned the regard the girl and then Benkate.

“Where’s the guy?” she asked, rudely walking between the two and opening a door into another room.

“Was she looking for Baskerville?” Benkate whispered to the girl. Mingchao shrugged, and proceeded to follow after the woman.

“Um, Mr. Priest is still sleeping. He hasn’t been feeling well these past few days since you guys showed up,” she explained as she tried to keep up. Rommie ignored her and came to another door. She opened it swiftly without knocking, and stopped short of colliding with Baskerville.

“Uh!” He stepped back in surprise. “Who—“

“Get dressed and come out. We have much to discuss,” Rommie ordered curtly. She turned on her heel to return to the front room where there were a few old chairs set about. Baskerville stood staring after her with a baffled expression.

When everyone was settled together, Rommie leaned with her back against the wall and addressed them in a superior tone. “First, there are a few rules I’d like to lay out. One, if one person goes, we all go. No one goes anywhere without me, which means we all go together and no one goes alone. This is to ensure I am always with you. If you go out on your own and get shot at or kidnapped, it’s _your_ problem and I am _not_ coming after you.

“Two, if we go outside, you will not speak of the Posse. Any mention of it, even whispered, will result in a long walk back home. If anyone asks, you’ve always known me.

“Three, any unusual letters delivered to this house and found by you must be given to me immediately. If I see you’ve opened it, I will lick your hand.”

Mingchao recoiled. “Ewww!”

“And four, no one…touches…my…guns.” Rommie rested her hands on the two revolvers holstered at her hips while giving each person a warning glare.

 “So is that all? We can’t do anything without your permission?” Mingchao asked.

Rommie winked. “Just if you need to leave the house. Otherwise, you’re perfectly free to do whatever you like at home.”

Mingchao sighed and looked down at her feet. It was no fun sitting around at home all the time. She couldn’t explore the city with Baskerville and meet new people and see new places. She couldn’t even try going to Hollywood. How long was this house arrest going to last? What did they all do to deserve this?

“So we’re stuck here? How boring,” Benkate grumbled. “I’d rather be out searching for my guns.

Baskerville said nothing, but he was giving Rommie a curious stare as if trying to figure something out.

Rommie noticed. “Does you arm still hurt?” she asked, a hint of mocking in her voice.

“It’s getting better,” Baskerville answered casually, though Mingchao suspected he was trying not to give her the satisfaction of feeling pricked.

“Good. Now run along, little children.”

* * *

 

The three friends leaned in over the table, holding their cards in their hands. Just to pass the time they decided to play a little poker. Rommie hadn’t said anything else besides the rules she laid down earlier that morning, and went out to chop wood for them.            Baskerville didn’t mind that she went to do their chores for them since they couldn’t leave the house, but her silence made the situation all the more frustrating. He decided he would corner her later and get more information out of her.

Benkate sighed and picked up a card from the deck, sticking out her tongue at her bad hand. “Blech. I haven’t done this bad in years. I swear it’s the atmosphere around here. It’s bad luck.”

“I agree,” Baskerville said quietly. He glanced over at Mingchao who was staring back at her own hand with a calm demeanor for one who was normally so energetic. “What about you, Mingchao?” The girl didn’t answer, but instead set her cards down and left the table. “Mingchao? Are you all right?”

She headed for the front door and peered outside, spying Rommie pulling weeds up from around the side of the house. “Um… Rommie?”

Rommie stopped. “Yes?”

“I want to help.”

“You can’t leave the house, remember? Just let me handle the chores,” Rommie told her, and continued with pulling the weeds.

“That’s not what I meant,” Mingchao said again. Rommie straightened back up to look at her. A bright light filled Mingchao’s eyes as she glowed with her classic determination. “I want to help you bring down the Order.” The sound of her declaration could be heard inside the kitchen, and Baskerville and Benkate came pounding across the floorboards. They stood behind her with stunned expressions.

“But Mingchao—“ Baskerville started, but the girl cut him off.

“We can help! I know we can!” she said.

“The Dawn Posse does not believe in turning children into soldiers,” Rommie replied sternly, but fell silent when Mingchao suddenly pulled out her gun and raised it high.

“I can help with this!” she said.

“Mingchao, wait—“ Benkate tried butting in.

“With this, I can help stop the Order so it can stop hurting people. This gun is the strongest gun in the West, and Benkate’s really tough and good with guns. Mr. Priest can throw knives like Benkate shoots guns!” Mingchao’s expression suddenly filled with regret when she said, “And I feel like I have a duty to stop them.”

Her friends remained silent at this, but Rommie only watched her steadily.

“And why is that?” she asked slowly.

“Because…”

“Because we have more in common with the Posse than they would believe,” Baskerville finished for her, smiling gently. Mingchao brightened at his support, and then looked to Benkate.

“Well, I—I’m thinking they’ve got my guns anyway,” Benkate said, rubbing the back of her neck. Then she smiled a grin of vengeance. “And I can’t let anyone get away with ripping me off like that.”

Mingchao beamed. “That’s right! You can get your guns back, Benkate!”

The gunslinger patted the top of the girl’s head affectionately.

Rommie appeared puzzled by this. “I’ve not a clue what you guys are talking about.”

“But will you let us help you?” Mingchao asked. “You said everyone who’s joined the Posse has lost someone from their family to the Order, which means _you_ did, right? The three of us have all been hurt because of a group of bad people who came after us once, so I feel like we can understand each other. I can’t help but feel like we have the same responsibility.”Taking a long breath, she finally concluded, “It’s not just that I want to help, but because I _have_ to help.”

Rommie seemed impressed with her words. She looked into the smiling faces of the two adults standing behind Mingchao. She sighed and tossed down the bundle of weeds she had been holding.

“I’ll see what Vixen has to say,” she conceded, and Mingchao clapped her hands happily at her victory.

“Why don’t you ask now?” Baskerville said, pointing beyond the house and at the trail. Rommie turned and saw a distant figure coming towards them, riding a horse at a leisurely pace. It was a man, and not a woman, who was approaching and carrying two fat saddlebags over his horse.

“Top of the mornin’ to ya,” the man drawled as he arrived. Without another word, he fumbled around in his coat pocket and pulled out a single white envelope. Baskerville could see other similar envelopes peeking out of the saddlebags, but this one must’ve been special enough to be carried with the rider himself. He glimpsed a wax seal pressed to the crisp surface of the opening.

“Thank you,” Rommie said as she took the letter. “Wait just a moment and I’ll send something with you.” She passed between Baskerville and Benkate and came out again about five minutes later, holding a new sealed letter for the courier. She handed it to the plain looking fellow and he turned away on his horse without even a farewell, heading back down the trail.

“What is it?! What is it?! Is it from Vixen?!” Mingchao asked loudly. “Did you write back and tell her we wanted to help?”

Rommie let the questions go unanswered as she opened the letter and read silently. Her face was like stone as she considered each word, and then she abruptly folded the letter and inserted it into her shirt.

“He’s back,” she told them, “and he’s not happy. We may be seeing action here very soon, maybe even today.”

“You mean the branch leader?” Benkate asked. “But I thought you said he was somewhere up north? How’d he get back so fast?”

“According to our spies, he got wind of our having the second half of the Firebrand, and cut short his trip and returned home immediately.”

“Got wind?” Baskerville repeated. “How could he have found out if he was so far from here?”

“The Order has their ways,” Rommie said, smiling, “and we have ours.”


	9. Underground Escape

The small cloaked figure darted to another bush as she silently made her way towards the house. Her breathing was labored and she clutched her burning shoulder, and her hand came away wet. _That bastard got me!_ she fumed inwardly. Hopefully it wasn’t too bad, because her ultimate goal was to get to the house, even if it meant dying along the way. She could at least slip the envelope under the door before her enemy shot her dead.

The darkness made perfect cover for the sniper, and she couldn’t quite tell where he was, but one thing she did know was he was determined to kill her before she achieved her goal.

Rising warily, the young woman made a final dash to the front door of the house where the associate the Posse had sent off two days ago was waiting inside. She heard the ground shatter at her feet as the sniper tried desperately to hit her. Chunks of earth pattered against her clothes. She knew that for him it was a matter of his reputation, and therefore life and death.

She thought her heart would explode by the time she almost reached the first step of the house, but she felt a bullet graze her thigh, and then another bit into the same shoulder that was shot before.

Stifling her cries, the cloaked woman fell hard on the ground and rolled over to gaze up at the stars. _I can’t quit yet. I can still move._ She lay there motionless for a moment, hoping to fool the sniper into thinking he’d killed her, just to get him off his guard for at least a second. She couldn’t grab for her own gun now as her true goal had yet to be accomplished.

The woman couldn’t hear any approaching footsteps and wondered if the sniper wasn’t buying her bluff. Her mind raced hopelessly for a new idea that would get her onto the porch. Had the people in the house heard the gunshots?

To her relief, she saw a light flicker out of the corner of her eye, and she waited. The only sound she could hear was the shrilling of the crickets and a slight breeze tickling the brush. She fought to keep her breathing under control, but anxiety mixed with the pain in her shoulder made it all the more difficult. The prone figure waited for what seemed like ages.

Her heart broke when the light vanished, but then her ears caught the faint sound of wood scraping wood. A window was opening. _She knows!_ But the silence continued for another five minutes.

She couldn’t fathom why no one was making a move. Obviously the sniper didn’t believe she was really dead and was only waiting for her to make a slight motion, but perhaps those beyond the window were also waiting for an opportunity. Or maybe they hadn’t thought of a plan yet. The woman bit the bottom of her lip against the pain in her shoulder as she wondered.

At last the crack of a rifle sounded from the window and made her ears ring. Before the sound had diminished, a person came rushing out of the door and grabbed her by her arms, dragging her over the rough steps and into the door. A few more bullets scattered wood splinters around them, but they managed to get in and close the door behind them. She could clearly hear the bullets striking the thick wood.

“Are you all right?” a frantic male voice asked. The dazed woman looked up at the face of an unfamiliar person and managed a small “yes” before dropping her head back to the floor.

* * *

 

“Gazelle!” Rommie shouted as she rushed over. She gently turned the young woman over and felt her shoulder. “She’s been shot!”

“Damn it!” Benkate cursed next to the open window, reloading the rifle. “I can’t see the guy! Mingchao, get over here and light this place up for me!”

“Right!” Mingchao came to crouch below the window and scattered animal extract powder on the Eto Gun. The sniper continued to shoot at the window and door.

“Who are these people?!” Benkate yelled. “There’s only one guy out there but he shoots like five!”

“For the Order, one is plenty,” Rommie said gravely from her place on the floor next to her injured associate. Baskerville was busy trying to stop the bleeding from the Gazelle’s wound.

Gazelle’s mouth worked to form her words. “I—I—This—“

“Take it easy,” Rommie said calmly. “We’ll worry about the letter when we’ve dressed your wounds.”

“No. Y-You must…read it…n-now,” Gazelle labored, and she pulled out the envelope with bloody fingers. Her hand trembled as Rommie took it.

Rommie’s expression went from stone cold to absolute frustration as she read the letter. She tossed the envelope to the floor and stuffed the paper into her shirt.

The shooting had stopped momentarily and Benkate’s aggravated voice rang out. “Mingchao, what’s taking you?”

The girl growled at her. “I’m sorry if I can’t stand in front of a window _because someone’s shooting at it!_ I happen to value my life, thank you very much.”

“If you didn’t _happen_ to notice, we’ve got _someone else’s_ life to worry about!”

“All right, fine!” Mingchao jumped up, her Eto Gun at the ready and pointed into the darkness.

Rommie was still trying to tend to Gazelle when the room lit up as if a lightning bolt had struck. Stunned, the flash blinded her for a few seconds before it finally faded. She turned back to the two friends standing at the window, and saw Mingchao’s gun was smoking. _What kind of a freaky gun is that?_

She heard the faint sound of screams somewhere outside, and Benkate brought her rifle back up. “Got ‘im!” she shouted, and the rifle boomed with a sharp flash from the muzzle.

The gunfire ceased and silence finally fell upon the house. Benkate laughed at their success. “Ha! I’ve still got it.”

“ _You’ve_ got it? I helped you, remember?” Mingchao said. “And you better not have killed that guy!”

“Oh, I know. I shouldn’t kill people, right? If it makes you feel any better, I only _severely maimed him_.” Benkate laughed, but there was no telling whether or not she killed the man. The silence from the other end indicated that he probably was dead.

When the two finally stopped bickering, they returned to the others on the floor tending Gazelle.

The injured person’s hood had fallen back to reveal a very young woman with braided brown hair. She was around eighteen years old; quite young.

“It isn’t too bad,” Baskerville observed. “If treated correctly, she should recover.” Mingchao sighed with relief and Rommie smiled happily. Benkate only crossed her arms.

“Now that that’s assured, what does the letter say? Will Vixen allow us to help?” she asked.

 Rommie glared back at the gunslinger. Why should they care at a time like this, when one of her own comrades almost died? “First of all, we’ve been ordered to move you to a new location. As you’ve witnessed, the Order is on to us and won’t stop until they’ve taken you out of the picture, and they’ll take their sweet time doing it. Secondly, yes, Vixen will allow you to help, and the Order now has the right idea about your being associated with us, and they don’t like _anyone_ who shares the same views as we do.”

“All right!” Mingchao said gleefully until she seemed to realize what that first part meant. “Oh, wait…”

“So where to?” Baskerville asked. “Is it a good idea to move Gazelle like this?”

“She should be fine. She’s been through much worse,” said Rommie.

“Yeah, like your homemade cakes,” Gazelle said quietly with her head still on the floor.

Rommie gave her an eerily cheerful smile. “You’re doing pretty well for having two bullets lodged in your shoulder. I’ve got more if you want some.”

Gazelle only chuckled, albeit painfully.

“This is no time for jokes!” Mingchao said. “She needs a doctor!”

Rommie glanced worriedly at the window. “True, but I’m not sure it’s safe to leave the house yet.”

There was an awkward silence while the four tried to concoct a plan. They heard no more voices or movement outside, but that only helped to increase their anxiety. It was finally Baskerville who broke through the quiet darkness.

“There is another way out,” he said.

“Oh! That’s right!” Mingchao slapped her fist into her palm. “It’s the passageway underneath the house! I almost forgot about that.”

“A secret passageway? Where does it lead?” Rommie asked with interest. “How far does it go?”

“This house used to belong to some thieves before the law caught up with them. That’s why I specifically chose this house. I knew there would be a few secrets to benefit Mingchao and myself,” said Baskerville.

Mingchao laughed. “Really? I thought it was because you liked the color?”

Baskerville blushed. “Um, maybe, but the passageway leads under the house and into town.”

Benkate gawked. “That far? Those thieves were no ordinary robbers.”

“Indeed they weren’t, but they were certainly smart. We can take the passageway into town and find Gazelle a doctor.”

“But we can’t get just any regular doctor,” said Rommie. “You don’t always know who’s a member of the Order, and the Order has most of the good doctors under their control.” She ground her teeth with her next statement. “I’ll have to fetch Fortune.”

“Are you taking us to your hideout?” Mingchao asked excitedly.

“No, it’s too far from here. We’ll have to hole up somewhere else. There’s really only one place for us to go that the Order won’t mess with, and that’s a church.”

Baskerville smiled wryly. “If that’s the case, then let me get changed.”

* * *

 

The group stared down at the black hole in the floor. The air creeping out was damp and musty, but Baskerville wasn’t deterred as he dropped a rope ladder over the side and down into its depths.

“I’ll go first,” Benkate offered. “If anything or anyone’s hiding down there, I’ll shoot it.” She slipped her rifle under a strap over her back and began her descent into the hole.

“I’ll go next!” Mingchao said, and clamped the handle of a lantern in her teeth as she followed her friend.

“I’ll bring up the rear,” Baskerville told Rommie, but to his surprise the she tossed him one of her guns.

“Just in case,” Rommie suggested as she held up her wounded comrade.

Baskerville nodded, remembering earlier Rommie saying she didn’t want anyone touching her guns. _Does she trust me so much already?_

With the help of Benkate, Gazelle was able to reach the bottom of the hole, and the group set off into the cavernous passage.

It wasn’t very smooth at times, and the ceiling was slightly too low for poor, tall Baskerville. This hole was obviously made by men shorter than him.

Ducking all the while, he asked the two figures ahead of him, “Do you know of a church that would be suitable?”

“Well, considering the way you’re dressed, I think I know of a Catholic church that might do. To the Order, it doesn’t matter if it’s a Christian church or a pagan temple. They claim to be tolerant of all religions, but in reality one of their goals is to abolish all religion and institute their own. They only claim to be tolerant to preserve a good reputation in the eyes of the public.” She shifted Gazelle’s arm on her shoulder and continued. “One of their biggest no-no’s is attacking religious institutions. They hate them, but at the same time they protect them, letting their plot slowly come to a boil.”

“That’s sick,” Benkate mumbled.

“How long have they been doing this?” asked Mingchao, a slight tremble her in voice. “No way jerks like that could get away with tricking people for so long!”

“Oh, they’ve only been at it for about _fifty years_ ,” Rommie growled.

“And how long has the Posse be fighting them?”

“Only about five.”

“That’s not very long,” said Baskerville.

“No, but apparently it’s been long enough to become a thorn in their side. Not even the police force has been able to figure out as much as we have—“

“It’s a dead end!” Benkate interrupted. “Is this it?”

“Baskerville pointed up. “There’s an opening above you,”

Benkate lifted Mingchao to the ceiling so she could push what looked like boards forming a square. The door barely cracked open and Mingchao peered out.

“It’s an alleyway,” she told them, “and I don’t see anybody.” She lifted the door higher and pushed her head out further. The cool night air began pouring into the stifling hole. “Nope. Nobody here.”

“Mingchao, maybe you should let me go first,” said Benkate, but Mingchao would have none of it. The trapdoor swung open fully and Mingchao disappeared outside.

The others lifted themselves out of the hole, Baskerville helping push Gazelle up while Rommie pulled. Outside, the alleyway was narrow and filled with ankle high weeds. Mingchao had her Eto Gun up and ready as she pressed herself against the wall of the nearest building, watching the darkness.

Baskerville knew they didn’t have much time left before the Order realized their mission to kill Gazelle had failed. They would likely send out more associates to deal with the survivors, and would be looking for them in places just like this.

The group left the alley after carefully concealing the hidden door, and merged with the heavy foot traffic that typically occurred late at night in the city.

“Hurry, this way,” Rommie said, and directed them down a less busy side street. Even in the darkness they could see the white steeple of the church in the glow of street lanterns, and they rushed toward it.

As they pounded up the steps, the doors happened to open and a priest stepped out. He stopped suddenly when he saw the group approaching. “I’m sorry, friends, but I’m locking the church for the night—“

“Please, you must let us pass!” Baskerville pleaded, hoping his appearance would do the trick. “This woman is mortally wounded, and her final wish is to breathe her last in a House of God.”

He heard Benkate scoff at his ridiculous speech.

The priest at the door remained silent, his face showing no emotion. Then his eyes moved toward Rommie and Gazelle, noting how the wounded girl was slumped and breathing heavily. Then he stared back at Rommie.

Rommie seemed to suddenly realize something. Taking one hand off her friend, she pulled down the collar of her shirt. The priest made no reaction, but he then stepped aside and opened the doors wide.

“What?” Benkate wondered under her breath. “He’s actually buying it?

They all dashed in, and the priest came up behind them, closing the door quickly. Rommie settled Gazelle on a pew and looked to the others.

“I must go get Fortune, but that means I have to leave you alone here,” she explained, and then smiled. “But I trust you’re perfectly able to defend yourselves. Plus, the Order will definitely not bother this place.”

Baskerville gave the waiting priest a sidelong glance. _She’d speak so openly in front of a stranger? Who is this man? I was certain he didn’t believe me._

“Until then…” Rommie said, and started out the door and into the night. The others waited as they tried to make Gazelle comfortable.

The young woman moaned. “She should’ve just left me…”

“No way! Rommie would never do that!” Mingchao protested.

Benkate scowled. “How would you know, Mingchao? You’ve only known her for three days!”

“Because she’s from the Dawn Posse, and the Dawn Posse fights bad guys!” Mingchao replied, giving the victory sign.

Benkate grunted. “Whatever.”

“If you five would be so kind as to clean up your mess when you’ve finished here, you’re more than welcome to return again,” the forgotten priest said kindly.

Although Mingchao and Benkate had forgotten he was there, Baskerville hadn’t. He glared at him suspiciously. “Why did you let us in? Are you associated with the Dawn Posse?”

A fleeting smile passed over the old priest’s face. “That, sir, I cannot answer for you, but I can assure you that you are about the most ridiculous looking priest I’ve ever seen.”

As he left the building, Baskerville was left alone with Benkate and Mingchao’s hysterical laughter.


	10. Race to Safety

The silent darkness of the church’s sanctuary weighed heavily upon the four like the crushing pressure of water on the ocean floor.

“Where is Rommie?” Baskerville asked worriedly.

It had been nearly an hour since Rommie had left the safety of the church to find Fortune, the Posse’s doctor. He glanced down at the wounded Gazelle who was beginning to nod off with sleep. Her skin was damp with sweat.

“At least her bleeding has stopped,” Benkate said. She was loading her revolver as she sat grimly next to the girl. Her rifle rested against a pew.

“But if we don’t get those bullets out… I wonder how far Rommie needed to go?” Baskerville mumbled.

Mingchao was over by one of the stained glass windows, peering fearfully out and holding the Eto Gun in her hand. Out of a small clear piece of the glass was the warped landscape of buildings. “How long does she expect us to wait?”

“I don’t know, but we can’t wait here forever,” said Benkate. She stood up and looked down at Gazelle. “I wonder if maybe we could get out of here and find a real doctor?”

“But Rommie said—“ Baskerville started, but Benkate cut him off.

“We don’t know if they’re really out there. For all we know they could’ve given up and left. Besides, she said they wouldn’t attack a church, right? I doubt they have the patience to wait till dawn, and they can’t risk being seen in broad daylight.”

Baskerville sighed as he mulled it over in his head, but Mingchao suddenly spoke up.

“Um, M-Mr. Priest?” she stuttered.

“What’s the matter, Mingchao?”

“I think I see someone outside.” She pointed at the glass, her bright eyes glinting with a nervous light.

“Is she back, finally?” Benkate grumbled. “Took her long enough.”

“But they’re just standing there,” the girl said, and turned to stare back out the window.

“What?” Baskerville whispered as he went to take a look for himself. Indeed, there was a human figure standing not twenty feet away from the window, but because of the glass he couldn’t tell whether it was a man or a woman. _Why would Rommie just stand there?_ Then it dawned on him. “Mingchao, get away from the window!” Just as the two of them ducked, the glass exploded into a glittering cloud of shards. Baskerville covered Mingchao as the pieces bounced off him and littered the floor.

“What the heck happened?!” Benkate shouted. She had grabbed up Gazelle and pulled her away from the site of the glass. The poor girl was barely conscious.

“It’s them! We have to get out of here!” Baskerville yelled as he pulled up Mingchao and dragged her away.

“But I thought she said they wouldn’t try to get us here!” said Mingchao. She snatched up a bottle of animal essence from her gun belt and sprinkled it hurriedly over her weapon.

Before she could get an answer, two more windows shattered and a bright light erupted near one of the pews.

“Fire!” Benkate screamed. “And there’s no way out of here except through the front door! They’re probably waiting out there!”

Like trapped rats, the four could only watch as the fire consumed the old wood of the church and crept toward them. The heat was beginning to assault their skin.

“The front door’s not the only way out!” Mingchao cried over the crackling fire. She aimed her Eto Gun towards the back end of the church beyond the flames.

“Mingchao?! What are you doing?!” said Baskerville. He held up one arm to shield his face from the heat of the fire.

“If they can bust up the windows, then I can blow a hole in the back of this place!” She let her bullet streak down the aisle and over the altar. The mystic ox that formed at the front of the bullet bent its head low as it crashed into the wall with an enormous crack. Wood splinters showered the group as they covered themselves from the debris.

Wasting no time, the four made a mad dash out of the newly, if not roughly, formed exit in the back of the church. Baskerville hoped that the light from the Eto Gun stunned their enemies long enough for them to get a head start on the chase.

Rounding a corner into an alley, they were able to stop and catch their breaths. Benkate was the last to reach them as she hauled along the injured girl. She leaned Gazelle against the wall and addressed the others. “She’s not gonna make it far in this condition.”

“What other choice do we have?” Baskerville asked, his breath coming in gasps.

Benkate peered into his face. “Baskerville… Are you okay? You look a bit pale.”

“I’ll be fine,” he replied in as strong a voice as he could muster, but he knew the only person he couldn’t fool was Mingchao. Luckily she was too busy reapplying animal essence to the Eto Gun to notice.

“Where can we go from here?” Mingchao asked when she had finished. “We have nowhere else to go.”

“If they’re willing to attack a church, then there’s really only one other place left _to_ go,” said Gazelle in a soft voice. The other three looked in amazement at the girl who hadn’t spoken since they left the house earlier. “One of the Posse’s hideouts.”

“You mean you have more than one?” asked Mingchao.

“Yes, but even the closest one is still fairly far from here.”

The glow from the now flaming church flickered down the street and slivers of the light found its way into the alley. People from neighboring buildings were just now beginning to try and control the fire.

The four crept further into the shadows to avoid being seen, but Gazelle faltered. “We must go where there are people,” she told them.

“Maybe we should split up?” Benkate suggested. “It’d make it all the harder for them to track us.”

“But how will we know where the hideout is?” Mingchao asked.

“It’s in the Queen’s Devil,” said Gazelle.

“Are you serious?” Benkate exclaimed. “You mean all this time the Dawn Posse’s been right under our noses?”

“Right, then!” Mingchao stood at the ready. “Let’s lose these jerks!”

“I’ll take Gazelle, Benkate,” Baskerville offered. “You and Mingchao head out and get to the saloon as soon as possible.”

“When you get there,” Gazelle said, “go around the back. There’s a door that’s almost always locked, and no one ever uses it, except the Posse and the bartender.”

 _Mullins!_ Baskerville’s eyes widened. _So that’s why he disappeared when the Posse showed up. He’s in league with them!_ He would have to have a nice, long chat with the big man about it later.

Gazelle continued, “Knock three times and then stop. Knock two more times then stop again. Then knock three more times after that, and the Posse will know it’s a friend.” When she had finished instructing them, the group split up and headed in opposite directions, attempting to stay near to where people were gathered, and trying not to look like they were on the run.

* * *

 

The deserted space behind a cluster of buildings echoed with the frantic footsteps of the duo as they made their way to another dark alleyway.

“It’s not too far now,” Gazelle gasped, holding her shoulder as she trotted along. Baskerville looked back at her with astonishment. The young woman, despite her wounds, had been running along beside him the whole time. He was impressed with her endurance.

Their escape to the saloon had gone unhindered, but that didn’t mean they weren’t being followed. Baskerville wondered that if anyone were following them, if they were likely just taking this as an opportunity to find out where the Posse’s hideout was. The reason he had decided to go with Gazelle was because he suspected the Order was after _her_ , not Benkate or Mingchao. This would give the other two a better chance of making it to the saloon safely. Until then, he would do what he could to aid Gazelle.

Just as they were about to duck into the shadows once more, a gunshot rang out and scattered the dust at Baskerville’s feet. Cursing under his breath, he slowed and allowed Gazelle to catch up with him, and then proceeded to shove her into a dark corner where she stumbled and huddled behind a barrel.

“Wait, what are you doing?!” she whispered as she watched Baskerville step back out into the open. “He’ll kill you!”

“Then he doesn’t know me at all,” Baskerville said from the street. There was something strangely sinister about that statement.

He stood still and waited, but there were no more shots fired from anywhere. Likely the sniper was just as puzzled as Gazelle. She waited patiently from her hiding place.

An owl hooted from somewhere overhead, but the silence progressed. Baskerville strained his ears to hear the cocking of a gun, and the sound of his heart pulsed angrily in his ears. The anxiety from earlier was beginning to make his chest ache again, but the adrenalin rush from earlier helped to numb most of it.

Finally, the tell-tale _chak_ of a rifle came from above and behind him. He moved so quickly that the sniper didn’t have a chance to react.

A large dark object fell from a rooftop and hit the ground like a heavy sack. Baskerville’s throwing arm whipped toward the body with terrifying speed, finishing the job.

Without checking his handiwork, he rushed back into the alley and grabbed up Gazelle, dragging her along. The saloon wasn’t too far now, but to them it felt like a hundred miles.

They darted out of the other end of the alley and rushed down the crowded street. The flow of the people slowed down their progress, but they found safety in numbers. Gazelle tried her best to maintain a steady walk, but couldn’t help but grasp at her wounded shoulder which probably burned and ached with every movement of her body. Baskerville walked behind her, turning and looking over his shoulder countless times.

The infamous sign of the saloon came into view, and Gazelle cut out of the stream of people and into the space next to the building with Baskerville close behind. As they rounded the back and headed for the small back door, Gazelle stumbled and hit the ground.

“Gazelle!” Baskerville reached out in hopes of picking her up while running for the door, but before he could grab hold of her another gunshot spat wood splinters off the building. The young woman covered her head with her arms as the shots continued to rain down on them.

Baskerville stood there fearlessly, his knives glinting in the moonlight as he flung them in the direction of the shots. Dull thumps were heard as the projectiles struck the neighboring buildings, but then a grunt sounded from above and the sniper was silenced.

Turning back to Gazelle, Baskerville kindly pulled her off the ground, careful to avoid hurting her injured shoulder. “You’re doing quite well with your wounds,” he said with a smile. Gazelle only nodded, still in awe after witnessing his skill.

Her eyes suddenly went wide. “Behind you!” she screamed. Baskerville whirled to find that another sniper had appeared on the same building.

 He was certain this was the end. They would not make it into the saloon. The whole world seemed painfully slow as Baskerville moved his hand into his cassock to pull out his weapons.

Before he could act, the sniper yelled out in pain. He recognized the shout for what it was: the cry of a dying man. Gazelle just stood there stunned. Neither of them had tried to kill the assassin, and yet he fell from his vantage point to a bloody end.

In the dim light, Baskerville glimpsed something protruding from the man’s back—no, _several_ of something, and went to approach the corpse. Before he could get three steps away a tiny ring sounded and he heard something strike the old wood behind him.

Gazelle gasped both in surprise and in joy, and pulled herself up from the dirty ground. “It’s—“

Baskerville whirled around and gaped at the small object sticking out of the wall, and his arm ached at the sight of it. The sharp pencil glimmered in the soft light of the stars as if mocking him. “Siren,” he mumbled.

Scrambling, Gazelle raced forward, but a voice stopped her. “Go inside! That may have been the last of them, but they’re likely to send more!”

Gritting his teeth, Baskerville turned to face their ally. A figure nimbly climbed down from the building with a monkey’s expert skill, and came into the faint light of the moon, revealing someone very familiar.

“What’s this now?” Siren said, amused. “You look so surprised. Who did you think I was all this time?”

“Rommie,” Baskerville whispered.


	11. Eagle's Nest

“When we saw the church burning, we knew,” Rommie said as she led the way to a back room of the saloon. Baskerville and Gazelle followed quietly. “I was worried they had gotten you, but Fortune didn’t think so.” She looked over her shoulder at Baskerville. “You’re awfully quiet for all that’s happened.” She grinned knowingly.

 Baskerville kept a straight face and directed his sights ahead of him, ignoring her. When he had found out she was the same Siren who had beaten him at the saloon not too long ago, his pride lay smoldering. All this time she had been right in front of him!

They entered a dimly lit room where there were several people standing about, all wearing their usual cloaks, but this time their hoods were down. Upon seeing Gazelle, many of them rushed forward, but one of them stepped out in front of them and held up a hand.

“She’ll be fine,” the woman said. “I’ll see to her wounds.” Baskerville assumed this one was Fortune, the Posse’s doctor. She looked young like the rest, though probably a little older. She kept her chestnut-colored hair tied back in a simple ponytail.

While Fortune escorted her injured associate out of the room with Rommie at her heels, the others relaxed and continued in conversations while they waited. Several of them whispered and glanced Baskerville’s way, but none of them approached him. They probably weren’t used to men being in their hideout.

The room itself was sparse. It appeared to be more like a storage room than anything else, but Baskerville spied a few unusual objects placed about the area. Among barrels and rows of unused liquor bottles were a few sacks that appeared to contain more than just supplies like flour or potatoes. Their canvas surfaces bulged in irregular shapes, and Baskerville suspected they may have been weapons or other supplies. On the walls were scrawled messages of information, or maps of places he was unfamiliar with. A couple of lamps situated on crates allowed for enough light to read them.

“Excuse me,” Baskerville finally said, breaking the uncomfortable atmosphere. “Do any of you know if Mingchao and Benkate made it here?”

As if to answer his question, a squawking voice sounded beyond one of the walls. “They made it? Where are they? Where’s Mr. Priest?!” The voice, much to Baskerville’s relief, belonged to Mingchao. He also thought he heard what sounded like a grumble, probably from Benkate.

The door that led into the room burst forth, and Mingchao came dashing toward him, grabbing onto him happily. “Oh, I’m so glad you made it!” she cried. Benkate came in after, giving him a smile.

“Yes, Mingchao, we’re fine. Gazelle’s getting help right now,” Baskerville assured his little friend. He told them his tale of escape after they’d left the alleyway, and was glad to hear that Mingchao and Benkate hadn’t been pursued as he had been. His reasoning that Gazelle was the target was correct. It seemed to him that the Posse was the Order’s priority.

“So, what now?” Benkate asked impatiently. “Who’s the leader here? I’m not gonna just stand around here all night waiting.”

One of the women turned to her. “Vixen will be here shortly. She was at another one of our hideouts when she heard what happened. She’ll explain everything when she gets here.”

The three friends sat on the floor against the wall and rested. After their narrow escape, their bodies were drained and exhausted. Baskerville tried his best to resist rubbing his chest for the pain, and hoped it would only fade. The pain didn’t worry him so much anymore, as it seemed to only be a symptom of the powerful drug he’d taken and not anything life threatening. He just didn’t want to worry Mingchao, or even Benkate. They didn’t need any more worries on top of what they already had.

Seeing that no one was paying any attention to the three companions, Baskerville reached into his cassock and pulled out something white. Mingchao leaned in to investigate.

“What is that, Mr. Priest?” she whispered.

“It’s the envelope Rommie dropped back at the house.”

“Why would you take that?”

He pointed to the broken wax seal on the envelope, and said, “Because of this.” The wax was a light red color, but it was the image pressed into it that interested him. When Rommie had discarded the envelope without a care, Baskerville was quick to snatch it up again when she wasn’t looking. Only now did he find the time to look at the seal.

His suspicions proved true when the glow of the oil lamps in the room revealed the raised surface of a single image, a hummingbird.

He looked to his friends and showed them. “This is the same hummingbird I saw on the horse back at the restaurant a few days ago, and also on the horse I saw here at the saloon when the Posse found me. This must be a symbol they use to identify their group, just as the Syndicate used the wedding dress.”

“But why a hummingbird?” Benkate asked in a low voice.

“Because although the bird is small, it is also very aggressive,” said a voice in front of them.

Baskerville jumped, and the others did likewise. Vixen blocked the light in front of them, but she smiled kindly. The three were so engrossed in their conversation that they hadn’t even noticed her arrival.

“But why would you flaunt this image?” Baskerville asked, thinking of the horse. His hand almost went for the cross at his collar. “Aren’t you worried people will know who you are?”

Vixen winked. “Flaunt it? Few people know this image is associated with us, and we don’t normally use the same version of the image on everything. That would be too obvious. We mostly use it for those within the Posse, not for those without. However, if the Order were to ever find out…”

She let the subject go at that, and then continued on with a new matter. “Now, then... How about we discuss your relocation?” She gestured to the door on the other side of the room and led them out into what looked like an office, complete with a desk and chairs at the other end of the room. It lacked the conspicuous items of the previous room. “This is normally where the bartender handles his business affairs, but he lends it to us for meetings.”

Two members came over and pushed aside the large wooden desk and chairs, revealing what appeared to be a trap door underneath. It was unusually large, but when the women pulled it open there was a sturdy set of stairs leading down into the darkness.

Lamp in hand, Vixen turned to the three friends and smiled. “Down we go.” A familiar musty smell wafted up from the cellar, and the group proceeded down the steps. Only three other members of the Posse came along, while the rest stayed above, keeping watch. After what happened that night, there was no telling whether or not the Order knew where the hideout was.

As the group carefully picked their way down the dark steps, a large basement opened up before them.

“Who would’ve thought this place had such a big basement!” Mingchao said in awe. “All these kinds of buildings seem to have some hidden room that no one would expect.”

“No kidding,” Benkate mumbled.

When they reached the bottom of the steps, Vixen led them across the packed-earth floor and over to yet another desk that was surrounded by more barrels, sacks, and crates. “We keep most of our supplies here,” she explained. “Food, water, information…weapons, it’s all here. If there is anything you need, you can come here, even if it’s just for safety.”

“You trust us so much already?” Baskerville asked, skeptical. It just didn’t seem wise to him that the Posse should reveal this much after such a short period.

Vixen turned to him calmly. “This night you have proven your worth. Rommie told me of how you left the safety of your home to pull in Gazelle, and Gazelle told me of how you protected her from the snipers. They both have had good things to say about all of you. They believe you are trustworthy.”

Baskerville wanted to cringe. Was she naïve, or just foolish? _Just because someone saves your life doesn’t mean they’re your ally. I would know how_ that _works._ But he supposed it wasn’t a problem in this case, since he and his friends were certainly trustworthy.

Vixen went over to the desk and pulled open a drawer, taking out some papers. She looked them over once before handing them to Baskerville. “This is information about the next place you will go. I am sending you out of Los Angeles and to a nearby small town where you will meet up with another Posse associate. You will not need to worry about the Order there. Their arm of influence has not reached this particular town, because their main focus is on the larger towns and cities.”

“And what are we gonna do from there?” Mingchao asked. “You’re going to let us help you, aren’t you?”

Vixen smiled down at her. “Of course. You will find out more once you get to the town. The member you will be meeting will be taking you into her home. She’s a very intelligent and educated young woman who has acquired some new information for us. She will let you know what to do from there.”

“And let me guess… _I’m_ going to have to babysit,” said a familiar voice from behind them. The group turned to find Rommie standing at the bottom of the stairs, her arms crossed. Vixen grinned back at her as if to give her the answer. Sighing, Rommie headed back upstairs.

* * *

 

The early morning light sent rays down the empty street of the town of Pasca, warning of a hot day ahead. The town Vixen spoke of was a fair size, and had everything a typical frontier town ought to, like hotels, casinos, saloons, a doctor, blacksmith, a general store, just to name a few. There were few people about, however, being those hard workers who wished to get an early start on the day.

Three silhouettes came at a slow trot down the silent road. The cool air from the night before was beginning to shift past them and disappear.

“Dang, I’m beat,” Benkate said, rubbing her neck and cricking her back. “We’ve been riding all night and my butt’s going numb. Are we going to rest up soon?”

“Not until we get to Eagle’s,” Rommie replied. Eagle was the codename of the associate they were to meet with. “As soon as we get there, I’m sure you can rest then. Right now we’re in no hurry, because we believe we have an edge on the Order at this time.”

“You mean the information Vixen said you had?” Mingchao asked from her seat in front of Baskerville.

“Yes,” said Rommie. “This is actually a breakthrough in our battle against them. We think they may not have this information yet, but we can’t become too lazy or else they’ll catch up with us.”

They continued down the main street of the town, and as the hour wore on the citizens began to emerge from their sleepy haze. No one seemed to pay them any mind, though a few stopped to stare at the strange sight of a priest, a little Chinese girl, a boyish looking woman, and what looked like a female pistoleer.

Rommie steered them down a side street, and the businesses became homes. This side of town appeared to be where the more wealthy people resided, and the other three began to wonder just what kind of person Eagle was. When they turned toward a large white house with a colonnaded porch, their wonder increased tenfold.

A breeze ruffled the colorful flowers that had been carefully planted in front of a white picket fence. The short front yard had yielded to the tall prairie grass, a perfectly natural choice in a region where hardly anything green could grow, and yet it worked as elegantly as any lush green lawn.

The group tied the horses at the front gate and walked down the pathway to the front door. On the porch were a bench swing and a rocking chair, along with some more flowers in planters under the windows. The outside of the house also appeared to have a fresh coat of paint.

Knocking, the four waited outside patiently and took in the quiet peace of the morning. It was probably the most peaceful it had been in the past week or two. They decided to enjoy it while it lasted.

The door opened. A woman in her early thirties stood beyond the threshold, but as soon as she recognized Rommie, she stepped forward quickly.

“I’ve been expecting you,” the woman said. “I wouldn’t have guessed you’d ride all night to get here. You must be tired.” She invited them in, looking warily past them as they entered.

“Please, take a seat anywhere,” she told them in the front room. “I am called Eagle among the Posse, though my real name is Vivian Wallace. While you are here, you may simply refer to me as Vivian.” She was a tall, slender woman in a simple blue dress and bodice, her long brown hair fanned out around her shoulders.

“How long does Vixen want us to stay here?” Mingchao asked.

“From what I just heard, maybe only a few days,” Vivian replied. She smiled. “Until then, how about a drink? I’m sure you’re parched.”

“That sounds great!” Mingchao said. “Got any tea?”

Vivian smiled kindly “Absolutely.” She headed into her kitchen to prepare it.

“Geez, I never woulda guessed the Posse had ladies like her,” said Benkate.

Rommie snapped a glare on her. “Why do you say that?”

“Because I always took the Posse as the rough-and-tumble kind, so seeing someone as cultured as her is kind of a surprise.”

Mingchao wasn’t listening to the conversation. She was focused on a picture on a small table next to the chair she was sitting in. In the image she could see Vivian and a man, the man’s arm draped affectionately around her waist. The man was handsome, but also well dressed and clean cut. He looked important. _I wonder if he’s her husband. Did she lose him to the Order, too? And speaking of which, who did Rommie lose?_ Mingchao turned her attention back to Rommie. The room had gone silent after her conversation with Benkate.

When Vivian returned and handed them their drinks, she sat in a vacant chair and explained their situation. “One of our girls returned from the Capital—“

“That far?!” Mingchao cut in. “She must’ve been gone a long time.”

“Mingchao, don’t interrupt,” Baskerville whispered her way, and Mingchao blushed.

“That’s fine,” Vivian said gently. “Yes, she did go far, and we’ve been anticipating her return for quite some time. We sent her there to gather some new information concerning the Firebrand. As you’ve already learned, there are two halves of the gun, one of which the Order has, and we have the other. At this time it seems we are at a stalemate with the Order. One of us has to make a move to obtain the other half from the other at some point.” Vivian paused a moment to look out the window and crossed her arms. “But apparently, there’s more to the gun than just the two halves.”

“Where did this gun come from?” Benkate asked. There was a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. “Who would cut a gun in half, and for what reason?”

“The gun is old,” Vivian continued. “Long ago, during the Revolutionary War, a man was hired to invent a powerful weapon for the Colonists, but it had to be done in secret or else the British would’ve tried to get at it. The gun was completed, but the war ended before it could be used, or even reproduced. There is only one in existence, or at least that we know of.

“For some reason, the inventor became fearful that the gun would be stolen and used for the wrong reasons, so he had the gun cut in half, but still made it so that it could be reassembled. He sent one half to Canada, and the other half to Mexico, getting it out of this country completely.”

“That’s weird,” Mingchao said. “Aren’t the British in Canada?”

Vivian nodded. “That’s what we thought when we heard this story. So either there was no more threat that the British would steal the gun, or there was a new threat elsewhere.”

“People like the Order,” Benkate mumbled thoughtfully.

“Perhaps, but even then the Order wasn’t around yet. It could’ve been anyone, really: thieves, gangs, enemy nations…or even no-good secret societies,” Vivian finished in a low voice.

“But why didn’t he just destroy the gun? It would’ve been easier that way,” said Baskerville. “None of this would be going on if he had just done that.”

Vivian grinned. “Indeed it would have. But you’re not an artist, are you?”

“My grandpa was a blacksmith,” said Mingchao. “I think I might know what you mean.” Her hand settled on the Eto Gun at her hip.

Vivian smiled back at her. “This man was the kind of artist who just couldn’t do away with his greatest masterpiece. He just didn’t have the heart to destroy what was truly beautiful in his eyes. He may have even intended to retrieve it at some point.”

Benkate leaned forward excitedly. “So now the two halves are found. What will happen when they’re brought together?”

“That’s where this new information becomes so valuable,” said Vivian. “The Posse—and the Order—already knew what the gun could do. We just didn’t know how, until a few days ago. Our spy returned telling us that although the two halves need to be brought together, there’s one more piece still missing that is essential for the gun to function the way it was meant to. We need the bullets.”

Mingchao grinned. “I get it!”

“So the guy made special bullets for the gun?” Benkate wondered aloud. “And where are they?”

Vivian was hesitant before answering. “This is where things get a little fuzzy. Our spy had to return because she was afraid she would be found out, but she managed to discover that the bullets are in Washington Territory.”

“Wow, way up there?” Mingchao sounded discouraged. “You don’t even know in which town?”

“No, I’m afraid not,” Vivian replied sadly. “This is where we’ve hit a dead end.”


	12. Eavesdropping

The setting sun illuminated the sky and stained it a brilliant red. The cool breeze of evening was beginning to sweep into the town and provide relief from the hot day.

Rommie stood in the backyard of the Vivian’s elegant white house, facing an upright log that was lodged firmly in the ground. She stared at it thoughtfully for a moment, and then jerked her arm forward effortlessly. The polished pencil struck the wood, dead center.

Although her eyes focused on the log, her mind was elsewhere. She couldn’t help but feel frustrated. They needed to find out where the bullets were, or else the Olympus Order would get to them first. Unlike the Order, the Posse didn’t always have the broad range of resources for information, nor the money when it was required. Sure, they had some members who had a bit of wealth, but there were times when spending too much money would risk suspicion.

 _We’re so close_ , she thought desperately as she tossed another pencil into the log. She nearly jumped when another object zipped past her ear and stuck itself next to her pencil. It happened so fast she didn’t have time to react.

She whipped around and found Baskerville standing confidently on the back porch steps, smiling at his perfect shot.

“What is it?” Rommie asked in a sullen tone as she faced the log again. “If you’re here to show off because of last time…”

“Not at all,” Baskerville replied innocently, although his eyes told a different story. He pulled out a few more knives and made a stylish throw into the log once more, each one hitting a mark next to Rommie’s pencils.

Sighing, Rommie didn’t even bother to face him again. “Then what did you come out here for?”

“I just have a thought to share,” said Baskerville, coming off the steps and standing next to her. “There are two cities in Washington Territory. Perhaps we should check one of those for the bullets?”

“Why do you think that?” Rommie asked, genuinely curious. The edge in her tone had faded.

“I can assume from personal experience that those two cities might be the best hiding places for the bullets.” Baskerville tossed a few more knives into the log as he spoke. “Vivian told me that the two halves of the gun were both found in large cities. Cities tend to be good places to hide things like that, especially when they’re small. Lots of hiding places…”

“How did the bullets get out there in the first place?” Rommie wondered. “There weren’t any territories belonging to America at that time. No one from the Eastern states knew what the land even looked like. They must’ve moved somehow.”

“Maybe, but however they got out here, we can try either Seattle or Spokane Falls. That at least helps to narrow things down a little.”

“Yeah…” Rommie mumbled as she considered it. “We could try those.”

“But I have a question…” Baskerville pulled out another one of his knives and examined the edge. “There is something I had been wondering about since we met. Why doesn’t the Posse just destroy their half of the gun?”

“So we can stall the Order,” Rommie was quick to reply, as if it were obvious. She turned her attention back to the log and chucked a few more pencils into it. The poor log was beginning to look a little ridiculous with all those pencils and knives sticking out of it.

Baskerville eyed her. “What for? If you get rid the other half of the gun, there’s no way they can complete the gun and use it, right?”

“The point is to keep the Order from obtaining all the parts of the gun. If the Order gets all the pieces together, they can figure out how the gun works and how to make more, especially the bullets. By taking the parts they want, we further complicate things for them. We, the Posse, also want to get the parts together for ourselves, so as to turn the tables in our favor and threaten them. We hope to destroy the gun eventually. Such a thing shouldn’t exist in this day and age.” Rommie made her way to the log and pulled out her pencils and some of Baskerville’s knives. “So while the Order is stressing over the fact that we have the other half, we’re busy finding the bullets. No matter what, we have to get to the bullets before the Order does.”

Baskerville paused as he absorbed her words. She could tell he still had some questions, but he’d apparently chosen not to ask them.

“So where did you learn how to do this?” Rommie said as gestured with one of his knives.

“Oh! Well, I just kind of taught myself. Where I come from you have to have some sort of skill in order to survive,” he replied. “And I’ve never seen anyone use pencils like knives before! Where did you come up with an idea like that?”

“I knew a school teacher who had a way to force her unruly students into submission.” Rommie grinned at the memory. “To make a long story short, I eventually commissioned someone to make these pencils.” She handed Baskerville one of the pencils to have a closer look. His brow creased as he looked at them. The body of the pencil itself had been painted and glazed over. The tip of the pencil was set with a sharpened stone, which provided a nasty blade.

Rommie rubbed her thumb over the slick pencil in reminiscence, and her voice became distant. “They really liked that part of the show.”

“Hm?” Baskerville looked up, his ears catching that last part. “What show?”

“Um, nothing!” Rommie said hastily, turning away. “So, I, uh, hear Benkate’s got a thing for exotic guns. I bet she’d be interested in seeing the Firebrand completed, eh?”

Baskerville blinked at her. “Yeah, and she believes the Order might have her collection. And speaking of which, I have yet to see your use your guns. Do you mostly use your pencils?”

“These things?” Rommie said, surprised. She looked down at the guns holstered at her hips. “Oh, I hardly ever use these. They’re not even loaded. I don’t think I’ve loaded them for a few weeks now.”

Baskerville gawked. “What?! But you gave me one just last night! You mean to tell me you gave me a gun that wasn’t even loaded?”

Rommie smiled. “Of course it wasn’t.” She leaned forward and put up a finger. “That was a gesture of my trust.”

“You’re…”

“Besides, you don’t need guns. You use knives. Geez, don’t get so uptight about it.” Rommie stuck her tongue out. She gave his knives back to him, walked past him and back into the house. He stared back after her, baffled.                                           

* * *

Benkate sighed and downed her drink. “Well, it’s nice being able to get out without worrying about someone trying to kill us.” The saloon she was in was lively that afternoon with a cattle drive just coming into town. It was a small place, but comfortable and clean.

Mingchao was busy focusing on the drink in front of her—nonalcoholic, of course—and was silent. It was obvious to Benkate that the girl was thinking hard. “You’ve been awful quiet lately.”

Mingchao looked up. “Huh? I have? It’s just… Well…”

“Everything’s gonna be fine, Mingchao.” Benkate laid a hand on her head. “Just think about it. We fought the Syndicate, and they were a heckuva lot bigger than these guys we’re up against.” She kept her voice low so no one nearby could hear. “These guys are small fry.”

“But I have a feeling size doesn’t matter,” said Mingchao. “I have a feeling…that this is going to be a lot different than the Syndicate, and I’m worried about Mr. Priest.”

“Speaking of which, what’s wrong with him? Back at the church I noticed he seemed a bit haggard.” Benkate downed another shot. “Is he sick?”

“Well, kinda. Remember that medicine Bearded Ina gave him? I think it made him weak.”

Benkate nodded, remembering.

“He seems to do fine as long as he doesn’t overexert himself,” Benkate said, and then muttered, “What perfect timing.” The last thing Baskerville needed right now was a new battle to fight, but it was too late now to turn back. The Order now associates them with the Posse, and there was no way they could return to Los Angeles. Plus she wanted her guns back, _bad_.

As the two sat deep in thought, two cowhands entered the saloon. They took seats a few stools down from the friends and ordered a couple of drinks. As the bartender poured the glasses, the two men leaned back against the bar and relaxed.

“Did ya hear what happened in L.A. the other day?” one of the cowhands said casually.

“No, but I hear’d that city’s all up in a storm over some crazy gang of womenfolk,” the other man said.

Benkate’s ears perked up at the second man’s statement. She gave the men a sidelong glance and listened carefully.

“Sure are,” the first man agreed. “They said those wenches burned down a church.”

Benkate almost jumped out of her chair in rage. _Those liars! The Order’s already trying to cover their butts and lay the blame on the Posse!_

“So why are those women so uppity? I hear they got a thing against them charity people in L.A.,” said the first man again.

“You mean the Olympus Order? I’ve no clue why those women hate them so much. Guess they got bees in their bonnets” The second man laughed, and the first man followed.

Benkate ground her teeth as she listened. The Posse was right after all. Everyone seems to think that the Order is totally innocent, but _is_ there anyone else who thought otherwise? If there wasn’t, the Posse certainly would never have formed. There _had_ to be someone else who agreed with them.

The men continued on with another conversation, and a new cowhand appeared beside them. He ordered a drink, but eyed the two men irritably.

“Is that all you two do? You yak on all day long! Well, you two ain’t got all day. We’re headin’ outta here in just a half hour. Be ready or else we’ll leave you here, and then you get no pay.” He appeared to be some kind of authority among them.

“Why are we in such a hurry anyway?” the first man demanded. “I ain’t never been in no cattle drive that’s been so rushed!”

“That man in Spokane Falls wants to buy every last head we got!” the third man said. “And he wants his cows as soon as possible. This ain’t no customer we want to disappoint.”

The two other workers nearly fell from their seats.

“Every last one?!” they cried in unison. “That’s insane!” said the first man. “Who is this guy?”

“A gentleman by the name of Elwood Belgrade,” the third man told them. “He made his fortune in railroading and mining, and he’s filthy rich. Like I said, he ain’t a customer we wanna disappoint!”

The three men bickered back and forth over the matter, and Mingchao leaned over to Benkate. “Who’s Elwood Belgrade?” she whispered.

“Like I’d know,” Benkate replied, shrugging. She didn’t know much about what went on that far north, and it wasn’t really a place she thought sounded fun. Plus she’d never heard of anyone having rare guns up there anyway.

“Yeah, I hear the guy has a gun collection to beat all gun collections!” one of the cowhands said in awe. Benkate almost spit out her drink and whipped around to hear more.

“He’s an enthusiast all right,” the third man nodded. “I heard he has guns from as far back as when they was first invented!”

Mingchao snickered softly. “Sounds like your soul mate, Benkate!”

But Benkate was listening intently to the cowhands’ careless conversation; however, it had already come to an end. The three companions finished their drinks and left the bar, leaving the saloon.

“What do you make of that, Benkate?” Mingchao asked, watching after the men. “What kind of a rich guy buys a bunch of cows and has a giant collection of guns? He sounds kinda scary to me.” Then a sudden realization came over her face. “Wait, do you think—“

“I don’t know,” Benkate said distantly, her mind churning, “but I wonder…”                                        

* * *

Baskerville set down another stack of newspapers on the old wooden table that creaked under the weight. Taking the first one off the top, he started flipping through the old yellowing pages.

He had come to the local newspaper office, looking for back issues of the Los Angeles newspaper, or even the local one. He came with the excuse that he wanted to learn more about the area because he was a “traveling missionary” after all (and still wearing his priestly garb, since he had brought nothing else with him).

Baskerville had been there for nearly an hour and a half and had found what he was looking for. There were only about a handful of articles concerning the Dawn Posse, and nearly none of them were favorable. Most of them had spoken of property damage, shootouts, and even murder. Odd, he felt, that he had never heard of them before, or the Order. As a former member of the Syndicate, he would’ve known about rival organizations, and yet he had been completely oblivious of the Olympus Order. He supposed that there were even those who could’ve slipped beneath the Syndicate’s radar, which sent chills down his spine. Who _are_ these people?

He stopped short when he flipped to a new page and found another article, though this one had nothing to do with the Posse. “’Town Mourns Late Mayor,’” he said under his breath.

The article was dated almost four years prior, and was a large one. The paragraphs went on to describe a funeral procession, but it was a name that caught his attention: _Denver Wallace._ Wallace? Wasn’t that Vivian’s last name?

As he continued reading the article, he was shocked to discover three things. One, this man was Vivian’s husband. Two, Wallace had been killed in a supposed robbery gone awry. The two thieves who killed him were never found, despite a massive manhunt. Three, the mayor was a member of the Olympus Order, and it was the Order who had funded the funeral.

Baskerville leaned back in his chair and wondered. How did Vivian find out that the Olympus Order killed her husband? Somehow, each member of the Posse must’ve figured this out. Whatever their reasoning was, they all came to the common goal of stopping the organization.

He couldn’t help but wonder what his own reasons were. After the fall of the Syndicate, he thought it’d be a good idea to go out and help people to make up for all the terrible things he had done in the past. He had several opportunities since then, and now was another. He couldn’t stand by and watch the Olympus Order go around destroying peoples’ lives under the cover of benevolence. But he barely made it out of the Syndicate alive. Could he do it again?

Baskerville left the newspaper office and headed down the boardwalk. He really didn’t know much more than what he did earlier, but he told himself to be patient. More would come to light in time.

He rounded a corner and saw Benkate and Mingchao coming up the boardwalk toward him.

“Mr. Priest! Did you find out anything good?” Mingchao asked.

“Well, not really,” he replied, not yet wanting to divulge what he discovered about Vivian’s husband. “I couldn’t find anything we didn’t already know, but it appears the Dawn Posse isn’t well liked. People seem to see them as ruffians and don’t have a high opinion of them.”

“That’s no surprise,” said Benkate, and then muttered softly, “I kinda know how they feel.”

Mingchao brightened. “But get this, Mr. Priest! There’s a guy in Spokane Falls who has a giant gun collection! I bet he might know where to find the bullets! Vivian did say they were in Washington Territory, right? We could check there!”

“We?” Benkate asked suspiciously. “What’s this ‘we’ you’re saying? No one said we were going all the way up there to find the bullets.”

“It’s awfully far,” Baskerville admitted with dismay.

“So was New York!” Mingchao pointed out. “And that didn’t stop us! We could just—“

“Mingchao, I think you’re forgetting something,” Benkate said between gritted teeth, planting a fist on the girl’s head. “Baskerville’s in no shape to be traveling like that anymore.”

“I probably could...” Baskerville began timidly. “I’m actually fine on most days, as long as I don’t do anything strenuous.”

“Yeah, Benkate!” Mingchao looked up at her friend, but Benkate didn’t look convinced.

“Fine,” Benkate conceded. “But no one said we were going. Let’s go tell Rommie and see what she thinks.”                                      

* * *

The next few days were uneventful, though quite relaxing, as they awaited word from the rest of the Posse.

Rommie often checked the telegraph in Vivian’s late husband’s office to see if they received any new messages, but every time there was nothing. When told of the railroad tycoon in Spokane Falls, however, she saw a possible lead. She had sent a telegraph immediately to the Posse, but hadn’t heard back since. She was beginning to worry that something might have happened in Los Angeles.

“We don’t know where the Order would meet in Spokane Falls, if they even do,” Rommie told the others one night around the table as they ate.

“They don’t have a building of their own?” asked Baskerville.

“No. For some reason they’ve always met in buildings where they could rent a place to meet. I suppose it has to do with security. They don’t even have a headquarters. They simply meet wherever they see fit, but they tend to use some of the same buildings every so often.”

“We shouldn’t trust anyone anywhere we go,” Baskerville warned. “Any man we meet could be a member, or anyone else could somehow be associated with them. Even in a place where there doesn’t seem to be any presence of the Order, their members could still be lurking.”

“You have a point,” Rommie agreed. _He’s pretty sharp about this sort of stuff._ “Even this Elwood Belgrade could be a member. If he is, then this is a whole new level of difficulty. There’s no telling what kind of power he wields.”

“So then, are we going?” asked Mingchao, her chopsticks stabbing at a piece of meat on her plate.

“First we must wait for word from the Posse,” Vivian smiled, standing next to Mingchao and refilling her glass of water for her. “I am sure they’ll be getting back to us soon. They’re probably still discussing what to do next.” Her words were reassuring, but Rommie was still anxious. She just _knew_ something had happened in Los Angeles.

They finished the rest of their meal in silence, and returned to bed that evening. The house was so large that there were a few extra bedrooms available for Vivian’s guests. Benkate and Baskerville took one, while Mingchao chose to stay with Rommie in another.

As Mingchao and Rommie settled down for bed, Mingchao spoke from her side of the room. “Rommie, is Vivian married?”

Rommie paused at first, but then replied, “No, not anymore. She never bothered to remarry again, either. It’s strange.”

Mingchao fell asleep easily that night without further talk, but Rommie couldn’t sleep as she wondered when they’d hear from the Posse again.


	13. Hollywood!

Mingchao awoke that morning to find Rommie’s bed empty. The woman hadn’t bothered to make the bed, making Mingchao wonder if she was either messy or something else had happened. Her suspicions were confirmed when she discovered a handwritten note set neatly on the pillow.

She rushed out of the room and found everyone already in the kitchen. “She’s gone!” she exclaimed, thrusting the note in Vivian’s direction. Their host read the note carefully, her face clouding over in grim thought.

“It seems Rommie decided to take matters into her own hands,” Vivian explained. “She’s gone back to L.A. to see what has taken the Posse so long to respond, and a few other things…” Her voice trailed off as she considered it.

“What other things?” Benkate asked, eyeing her.

“She wants to find out where the Order may have meeting places in Washington Territory, and I have an idea of where she may think to look,” replied Vivian. “She once knew a man who was a member of the Order, before she joined the Posse. I’m assuming she might try him.” She shook her head sadly. “She’s being rash. No Sister is to move on her own like this, especially not alone.”

“If she blows her cover, there’s no way she can show her face again in that city. The Order will know exactly who she is,” said Benkate.

“What do we do?” Mingchao asked plaintively.

“There really isn’t anything we can do,” Vivian told her. “She’s likely there already.”

Mingchao was downcast. “But how could she do this? She even forgot her stuff.”

Baskerville awoke from his concentration at the table. “What stuff?”

“Her pencils and guns,” said Mingchao. “I saw them in our room this morning, after I found the note.”

“Stupid!” Benkate spat. “I knew Rommie was a little odd, but I didn’t think she was an airhead!”

Vivian sighed. “It’s true. Rommie tends to make ridiculous mistakes. She probably left in a hurry, and on impulse. Without a weapon she’ll be a sitting duck if the Order comes after her, and that’s likely to happen.”

“Then we’ll bring her stuff to her!” Mingchao declared. “We can’t just let her go alone!”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just send a telegram to the Posse?” Benkate suggested.

Baskerville sighed. “With the lack of communication we’ve had from them, we can’t be certain they’ll get the message in time. We’ll have to go with Mingchao’s idea.”

With some discussion, it was decided that Benkate would stay behind with Vivian to keep on eye on things at the house, and Mingchao and Baskerville would head out as fast as they could and hopefully catch up with Rommie, but they knew it was a slim chance. They would probably end up trying to find her in the city instead.

The two set out late that morning and traveled until late at night when they reached the outskirts of Los Angeles. Nothing appeared to have changed since they left, and even their house was still standing—apparently the Order hadn’t burned it to the ground, but the downside was they didn’t catch up to Rommie along the way. She really must’ve ridden all night to get back to the city.

“Man, I’m tired,” Mingchao said and yawned from her perch on the horse as they slowly made their way into town. Baskerville looked down from his seat behind her.

“We can’t stop now,” he told her. “Our first priority is to find Rommie. We should try the Queen’s Devil.”

“Why did Rommie have to go and do this?” Mingchao complained. “There’s no telling what kind of trouble she’s gotten herself into!”

“We’ll worry about that when we find her,” said Baskerville, and they turned their horse down the street toward the saloon, but they stopped short. Mingchao gasped and covered her mouth with her hand in disbelief.

The smell of the smoldering ashes was evident even from a distance. People were running to and fro with buckets of water, trying to douse the remaining fires that crackled in piles of what used to be the Queen’s Devil. The damage was extensive, having destroyed four or five other buildings next to it. Black scars from the smoke and flames marred the neighboring buildings that had been spared.

“The saloon! It’s…“ Mingchao’s voice was weak.

“It’s a miracle the rest of this side of town didn’t burn with it,” Baskerville said in awe. “This is the Order’s doing.”

“Do you think this is why the Posse wasn’t able to send us a telegraph?” Mingchao asked quietly. There were many people around them, tending to the burning piles. Any one of them could be from the Order.

“It could be, but this looks recent. It may be part of a string of problems the Order has been causing them.” Baskerville sighed. “It doesn’t look like we’ll be able to find Rommie here.”

“The hummingbirds are migrating this time of year,” said a soft voice suddenly from nearby. Mingchao and Baskerville almost didn’t notice it, but then they saw a young woman standing behind them, watching the scene before her. She wasn’t looking at them, but it was obvious she was speaking to them.

“Excuse me?” Baskerville asked.

“The hummingbirds like to move to other places when the weather gets cold,” she said casually. She was young and pretty, but when she tossed her head and brushed her shoulder-length brown hair away, Mingchao saw the glint near her ear. It was a hummingbird earring. “Perhaps you’d like to see some?”

“Sure!” Mingchao said naturally.

The young woman smiled “This way, then.” She led them away down another street. They said nothing more to one another as they made their way into an alleyway and onto another street, this one more deserted than the others.

Mingchao and Baskerville dismounted after stopping in front of a horse stable and brought their steed inside as casually as possible. The young woman leading them brought them into an empty stall and cleared away the musty hay and dirt that had accumulated in one corner, and revealed a trap door.

“What’s a thing like this doing in a stable?” Mingchao wondered aloud. “Does every building around here have some creepy hole in it?”

The young woman ignored her comment and lifted the latch of the door. Cool air escaped and slowly washed over their feet. “Go in. She’s down there,” she said.

Not asking any questions, Baskerville headed down first followed by Mingchao, and below there was a faint light glowing from an oil lamp. They saw no one else within view. The place was fairly large, about the size of maybe ten stalls that were up above. It appeared to be perhaps some kind of storage area, though neither of them had ever seen a place like this under a stable.

“So who’s supposed to be down here?” Mingchao asked, keeping close to Baskerville and fingering her Eto Gun.

“Just us,” said a voice off to their right, and a shadowy figure emerged from behind a barrel that had been tucked away in a corner. A few others did the same from behind other boxes and barrels. The figure’s face came into view in the soft light of the lamp.

Mingchao grinned. “Vixen!” But then her smile turned to horror. “Your face! You’ve been burned!”

Vixen waved away the girl’s concern. “It’s minor.” It was obvious she was uncomfortable, though. “It will heal. Fortune already took care of it. As you’ve probably already seen, the Queen’s Devil was burned to the ground. We don’t believe it to be any accident. Mullins said he saw a few prominent men enter the saloon not long before the fire started, and he knows for certain that these men are members of the Olympus Order.”

“That’s why you couldn’t send us a telegram,” Baskerville said in a low voice. “Rommie came to find out why you were silent. She left so quickly she forgot her weapons.”

“She was here earlier,” one of the other hooded women in the room mentioned. “She was enraged about the saloon, but headed off toward Hollywood to find someone she believed she could get information from.”

“Hollywood?!” Mingchao chirped gleefully. “Who does she know there?”

“I’m not certain,” Vixen replied. “It’s someone from her past, someone in the Order…”

“We have to find her! She can’t go running into danger without a gun or…pencils! You let her go on by herself?”

“We couldn’t stop her,” said Vixen. “She came and left quickly despite our protests.” Her face became grim with foreboding thoughts.

“Then we’ll go after her,” Baskerville offered. “You can stay here until then. Maybe Rommie’s on to something, but she shouldn’t do this alone.”

“Agreed, but be very careful,” Vixen warned. “Not a few members of the Order have their careers in that place.”                                                          

* * *

“Woooooow!” Mingchao gawked. She dashed from building to building, peeking into windows and opened doors. “This is my first time in Hollywood! Can you believe it, Mr. Priest?” The buildings this side of town were fancier and more elegant looking than the rest of the city.

“Mingchao, we’re not here to have fun,” Baskerville scolded gently. “We have to find Rommie as soon as possible.”

“How are we supposed to find her in this huge place? I say we split up.”

“Well…” Baskerville hesitated. He didn’t sound he liked that idea much, considering the last time they split up Mingchao managed to get herself locked in someone’s basement. “I guess we could. Let’s meet back here at this fountain,” he said, gesturing to the ornate marble fountain in front of them. It shot up glistening water from the mouth of an expertly carved dolphin.

Mingchao cheered. “All right!” She dashed off down the road in pursuit of the buildings ahead. Baskerville gave a start and then stopped, sighing. He shook his head.

Mingchao didn’t feel the least bit worried about being a place that was possibly crawling with Order members. Her thoughts were buzzing with just the fact that she had finally set foot in Hollywood, the very place she had dreamed of for years. She had almost forgotten that she was looking for Rommie, the flashy buildings and people drawing her mind away from her main purpose. She didn’t  mind the odd stares and grimaces from the people passing by her.

But soon her mind played back to her mission. _Who could Rommie know here who’s a member of the Order?_ _Could he be someone important? I don’t even know the first place to look!_ She tried to push away her frustration and decided that the best way to get clues was to ask.

She stopped a finely dressed lady walking by. “Um, excuse me?” The woman gave Mingchao a sour look. “Have you seen a lady with really short hair, dressed kind of like a guy? She’s about as tall as you, and is kind of grumpy sometimes?”

“Only about a dozen times today,” the woman replied snidely, flashing open a feathered fan. “What you describe is a fairly common costume.” With that, the woman went on her way, leaving behind a puzzled Mingchao.

“Oh, man,” she mumbled. “This is going to be harder than I thought.”  She continued down the road, stopped a few more people to ask again, but she got no further information than the first person. Apparently it really was a common costume for women to wear in the plays that were produced in the area. Perhaps Rommie had herself the perfect disguise?

Sighing, Mingchao sat down on the steps of a large fancy building that was painted gaudily in violet and yellow. It was almost ugly, but the sign painted in front read “Five Star Hall,” and from the ticket booth out front it must’ve been a stage. As much as Mingchao would’ve liked to go in, she had no cash on her. Instead, she went to take a look at the posters on the walls outside advertising upcoming shows, and there were even some for past shows as well.

She marveled at them, gazing at all the beautiful pictures of people dressed in different sorts of costumes. “Wooow…” Romance, comedy, adventure, drama… It was all there, every kind of story under the sun. The names of the actors and actresses were totally unfamiliar to her.

As Mingchao stared at the posters, one in particular caught her eye. It portrayed a young woman with long brown hair in an elegant red dress. Half her face was covered by her silky hair, hiding one eye and bringing out the starkness of her ruby red lips. The girl cocked her head as she studied the face. _She looks familiar, but I’ve never met a Hollywood star before._ The title of the poster read “Goldfish Tide, the top musical of the year, starring the beloved Ophelia Dixon!” But the dates printed on the poster for the musical were several years ago. The color on it had already faded quite a bit. It seemed no one bothered to take it down.

“Ah, they never did put that show on again after she retired,” a voice said behind her. Mingchao jumped and whirled around. A lavishly dressed middle-aged man in a gray suit stood smiling down at her. He chuckled. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Did you know her?” Mingchao asked.

“Yes,” the man replied. “It was such a shame. She was at the pinnacle of her career when she called it quits. There really hasn’t been anyone like her since, and no one has seen her in years.”

“What do you think happened to her?” Mingchao probed, fascinated. A beam of sunlight struck something shiny on the breast of his coat, and as the girl’s attention focused on the shape she saw the image of a rearing purple lion pinned to the jacket.

“It was heard through the grapevine that there was a death in the family, and that poor Ophelia was so distraught she just couldn’t go on with her acting career. It’s rumored that she moved to some distant country and now lives as a nun in a secluded convent.” The man stared hard at the poster with a clouded expression. “But…” He reached over the girl’s head and ripped the poster down in one quick movement, shocking Mingchao, but when she looked back up at him he was smiling gently again. “This old poster should’ve been removed a long time ago. No need to keep up old advertisements about plays we no longer run.”

“We? Do you work in Hollywood?” Mingchao asked, cautious now.

“Why, yes, I’m a director. I’ve directed many plays here, including many in which this woman has starred.” The man indicated the now crumpled poster in his hand. Although his face remained smiling, his eyes were somehow different.

 _This guy is creeping me out_ , Mingchao thought. _I should get outta here._ “Um, it was nice meeting you!” she said suddenly, dashing off the steps and back into street. She was fifty paces away when she realized she should’ve asked the guy if he knew Rommie, but it was too late now. She would have to just continue asking people and keeping her eyes open.

As Mingchao rounded a corner, she stopped suddenly, her mind reeling in an epiphany.                                              

* * *

“This was a ridiculous idea,” Baskerville mumbled to himself. He had already checked three or four places and asked several people, but no one seemed to have any clue as to who Rommie was. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack. It probably would’ve been better to just wait and see if Rommie came back on her own. He chuckled, wondering if it really wouldn’t be a loss to him if she didn’t.

He made his way down a side street, and came upon a long row of five buildings that took up one side of an entire block. They were brightly painted and attractive, and he assumed they were probably theatres. _I suppose I could try those, too,_ he thought, and picked the first building in the row.

Before he even opened the doors, music was merrily drifting out from the walls in muffled tones, and he could hear laughter and clapping. He couldn’t push away the sinking feeling of failure, but he forged ahead anyway.

In the dim light of the theatre, smoke lazily hung the air in a thick fog, the room being populated by cigar-smoking businessmen and their elegant female partners. They sat in rows before a stage, watching a man dressed in women’s clothing singing and dancing to what looked like a play of some sort. Baskerville stared in bafflement as the man on the stage was joined by several other men dressed as women. What kind of a stage show had he come into?

Tearing his eyes away from the spectacle, Baskerville rushed to open a door near him in the audience hall and fled. He found himself in a dark hall lined with doors leading to other rooms. Above each door was a sign with a name on it, probably dressing rooms. Believing the area to be a dead end, Baskerville turned to go out the door again when suddenly a strong hand clamped over his mouth and his right arm was twisted painfully behind his back.

“Shh!” rasped the voice behind him. “It’s me!”

Baskerville muffled angrily and pulled away. “ _You_! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Rommie tilted her head curiously. “I didn’t think you cared so much to follow.” She crossed her arms. “This is something _I_ wanted to do. I didn’t ask anyone for help.”

“It doesn’t matter! You’re putting the Posse and yourself in danger! And not to mention my friends! Mingchao’s out there alone looking for you, too.”

Rommie only rolled her eyes. “Listen, I’ll only be here for a second. You don’t have to stick around.”

“I most certainly will!” Baskerville retorted. “We went through the trouble to find you. Mingchao has your guns and pencils—“ He stopped, because they heard voices and footsteps coming from the door that led to the audience hall.

Gasping sharply, Rommie grabbed Baskerville and yanked him into a nearby room and shut the door quickly. They both put their ears to the door and listened closely.

It sounded like one person, and to their relief the footsteps passed by and faded. The two relaxed and pulled away from the door. A strained silence descended between them for a moment.

“You need to go back to the Posse,” Baskerville finally said. “You’re helpless without your weapons.”

Rommie scoffed. “Who says?” She walked further into the room. Baskerville was puzzled that this was a room without windows, and yet as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see they were in some kind of office with a desk and a plush chair. The walls were adorned with photographs and awards.

“What is this room?” Baskerville asked.

“It’s the office of Armand Moreau. He’s a director and producer for a lot of the shows that go on around here,” Rommie explained nonchalantly.

“Vivian said you knew someone here who was a member of the Order. Is that him?”

Rommie paused before she answered. “Yeah, I knew him for a number of years.”

Baskerville caught himself before asking anymore. There was something about Rommie’s tone that suggested she wasn’t inclined to elaborate on the subject.

“This is his office,” Rommie said, and Baskerville gave a start. “He has something that would be very valuable to the Posse, and I’m pretty sure he’d keep it in here. There are no windows, so the only point of entry would be the door—“

“Which was unlocked,” Baskerville said, looking at her askance.

“I already picked the lock before you showed up,” Rommie said matter-of-factly as she pulled open a drawer in the desk. “We’re looking for a list of locations where the Order meets. They keep one so that if they have to go from city to city, they’ll know where to go, because the Order can meet in hundreds of places all over the country, maybe even thousands. If we can find it, we might be able to see if they have any places of meeting in Spokane Falls so we’ll know what we’re getting ourselves into.”

Rommie had rummaged through four drawers before finally coming upon a bundle of papers that were each stamped with a certain image. In the darkness Baskerville couldn’t see what it was, but it appeared to be a feline shape.

Rommie pulled out a single sheet from the bundle and examined it up close.  Baskerville knew they couldn’t get a light because it might give them away, so he waited patiently for her response.

“I think this is it,” she said slowly. “I’m seeing the names of what I think might be buildings and other places, most of them here or in Oregon Country. That entire bundle may be the whole list, but this one…” she trailed off as she scrutinized the bottom of the page. “This one has at least one building from Spokane Falls.”

The hallway outside erupted in footsteps, all of which were coming in their direction. Rommie quickly folded the paper and tucked it into her shirt. The rest of the papers she stacked together and carefully placed back in the drawer. Baskerville watched her incredulously, seeing how she didn’t seem concerned that they could be found out any second.

They pressed themselves against the wall on either side of the door, waiting. But the footsteps passed by and disappeared.

“We should leave now,” Baskerville whispered.

Rommie nodded in agreement. “I think I have what we need now, but it won’t be easy getting out of here without being noticed. I might be okay—some people may not be able to recognize me, but it’s _you_ I’m worried about.” She paused for a moment. “I think I might know how to prevent that.”

Baskerville gave her a puzzled look. “Why me? This is my first time here.”

“Exactly,” Rommie replied. Baskerville still didn’t understand, but she said nothing more.

When the hall was quiet again, they opened the door carefully and peered outside. It was dark and unassuming, but Rommie still didn’t trust it. “Come this way,” she bade Baskerville, and they snuck down the hall as quietly as possible.


	14. Ophelia Dixon

“No.”

The word was strong and adamant, but the person at whom it was directed was just as grounded in her decision as he was.

Baskerville glared hard at Rommie, but she was unmoving. “I won’t do it,” he reiterated.

“It’s not like you have a choice,” Rommie retorted.

“I do!” Baskerville replied in a hushed voice. “I’m not going to wear that!”

“It’s the only way! People might be become suspicious after all the things you’ve been asking about me.”

“Then what about you?”

“I’m fine the way I am. No one will know who I am, trust me.” Rommie placed her hands on her hips. “Now put that on!”

“But it’s a _dress_!” Baskerville said through clenched teeth, but Rommie only smiled pleasantly in a way that gave him the creeps.

“You know…” she said sweetly, approaching to stand close in front of him. He backed against the wall of the dressing room, but she kept coming until they were almost nose to nose. She reached up slowly and he flinched. “I’ve always hated your hair.” Her voice was firm, as well as her grip on a lock of his blond hair. “If you do not get into that dress this instant, I’ll personally see to it that I fix that hideously atrocious mane of yours with a razor.” As the color drained from Baskerville’s face, she added in his ear, “While you’re sleeping. And I do know where you sleep.”

Baskerville couldn’t recall a time when he’d dressed so quickly, and in a gown no less! He stood there sullenly afterwards, awaiting her command. Rommie looked him over for a moment.

“Hmm. This might work, except…” She pulled a large flowery hat off a top shelf. She gathered his hair up and placed the hat on his head, adding insult to injury. “There. That’s better.”

“And _why_ do I have to do this? People aren’t going to buy this,” Baskerville said as he indicated his chest.

Rommie smiled assuredly. “That doesn’t matter. People will just think you’re part of the troupe.”

This wasn’t the first time Baskerville had been a ridiculous outfit, but this was the worst. “I swear, if you ever tell anyone about this…” He could already hear Benkate and Minghao laughing.

Rommie grinned. “Oh, don’t worry. It’ll be a secret just between the two of us.”

 _More like the perfect blackmail,_ Baskerville thought with a grimace.

They left the dressing room cautiously, and tiptoed down the silent, dark hallway, flinching at every creaking board under their feet. They could hear the commotion of people everywhere through the walls, and knew they had to be ready if they were to encounter anyone at any moment. That moment came only minutes after they left the room.

A door swung open, almost in Rommie’s face, and she backed up swiftly, pushing Baskerville back with her. The door stayed open for a moment longer, and a man’s voice was heard from within.

“It’s next week,” he said. “Be sure you get the makeup right this time. Last time it was a disaster and I won’t have it happen again. I’ll give you the ax the next time you screw up!”

Baskerville leaned in to Rommie’s ear during the conversation. “Let’s turn around.” He grasped her arm to pull her away, but she stood rooted to the spot. At first he thought she was just being stubborn, but as he peered into her face he realized she was gaping. She was frozen with shock. “Come on!” he rasped, but before he could get her to respond the man appeared from the room, turning to see them.

“Oh,” he said, wide-eyed. He was a well-dressed gentleman in a gray suit, clean shaven and handsome. He appeared to be somewhere in his forties. Baskerville noticed Rommie tried to say something, but no words proceeded from her mouth. “Rommie?” the man in gray said in awe. “It that really you?”

“Uh—um,” Rommiue’s voice was hoarse. “Y-Yes! Armand, how n-nice to see you again!”

Baskerville caught himself before he fell back, trying to keep his expression like stone. _I thought she said no one would recognize her? Why does he?_

“I thought you were long gone,” Armand said, leaning forward to see her better in the dim light. “What did you do to yourself? Your beautiful hair is—“

“Never mind that!” Rommie said a little too loudly. “What about you? I see you’re still working here. Are you planning another production?”

Armand gave her a slightly suspicious look, and then smiled. “Yes, I am. In fact, it’s a play you’re familiar with. Who is this with you?”

“This is…” Rommie blinked quickly as she scrambled for an answer. “This is Bas—Bas—“ She faltered as her mind was in overdrive. “Beck!”

“Beck?” Baskerville whispered to himself, and Rommie elbowed him in the ribs.

“Interesting, I don’t think I’ve seen him around before,” Armand said, looking him over.

“Oh, he’s new,” Rommie explained. “You see, I met him in town, and he was looking to get a job here in Hollywood, so I thought I’d help him out. He just got back from an audition.”

“I see, I see,” said Armand, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “That’s kind of you to help him. It’s wonderful he has a connection as good as you.”

Rommie smiled nervously and her tone was hurried. “Yes, well…we’d better get going now, he has another audition in a short while.” She took Baskerville by the arm and pulled him along as she started backing away, but Armand spoke first.

“You know, Rommie, you could always come and work for me again,” he said, his voice like silk. Baskerville physically felt Rommie shiver. “There hasn’t been anyone like you—“

“No, I made my choice. There’s nothing here for me to go back to,” said Rommie, almost angrily. Without even bidding Armand farewell, Rommie tugged Baskerville away and they walked briskly in the opposite direction.

“That could’ve been disastrous,” Baskerville admitted as they burst forth out a back door and into the evening twilight. He was really just trying to break the silence, for Rommie had become unusually quiet. “What was that about anyway—“

“Doesn’t matter now,” Rommie cut him off. “We’re out. Here.” She threw him a bag they used to stuff his clothes in. “Put it on.”

Baskerville undressed almost as fast as he had dressed, tossing the scandalous gown to the side in the alleyway they had taken refuge in. “We have to find Mingchao and leave here. They may be on to us.”

“Right, right,” replied Rommie, sounding distant. “We’ll need to return to the Posse and then we’ll see where we can go from there.”

When they arrived at the fountain, they found Mingchao sitting alone on the edge, turned slightly to watch the water spatter. Baskerville was relieved to see that she was actually waiting there. He was afraid they’d have to go find her.

“Mingchao!” he called, waving as they approached. She turned with a smile, but when her eyes set on Rommie, the smile vanished almost instantly.

Before her friend could ask what was wrong, Mingchao said, “Where did you find her?”

“In a theater,” Baskerville replied with disdain, snapping a glare on Rommie.

Rommie only shrugged. “We don’t have time for any of this. I need to get this information back to the Posse. You can scold me later, not that I need any scolding from _you_.”

Without any retorts, the three made their way out of Hollywood and back into the city. They went at a rapid pace, keeping their eyes open for anyone who may be following, all the while remaining quiet. There was no more conversation about the papers Rommie carried.

As they came close to the stable where the Posse waited, Rommie turned to the others. “I want you two to wait here, for safety reasons,” she told them. The other two exchanged puzzled glances. “I’ll give this to Vixen to see what she says. We may leave as soon as today.”

“For Spokane Falls?” Mingchao said. “You mean we’re going?”

“That’s what I’m going to find out. Just stay put.” She left them there and quickly entered the stable.

Leaning against a pole on the corral, Baskerville sighed. “Well, looks like we’re in for another long trip.” When he didn’t receive a response from Mingchao, he looked down at her curiously. “You’ve been very quiet.”

“You said you found Rommie at a theater. What was she doing there?” the girl asked. Although it sounded like an innocent question from a child’s curious mind, Baskerville sensed something else.

“She apparently knew a man who worked there—“

“A director?”

“Well, I’m not sure. He didn’t say, though Rommie asked him if he was producing another show, so one might easily assume he was.”

“You met him?!”

“Briefly, thankfully.”

Mingchao grabbed his arm, startling him. Her expression was frantic. “What did he look like?”

“U-Um, middle-aged, possibly older… Wore a gray suit with a weird pin on his coat—Mingchao’s what’s wrong?” Baskerville saw her face blanch, and her eyes became as wide as he’d ever seen them. “Mingchao—“

Her voice grew hushed. “It’s just I—I think I may have met him in town.”

Baskerville stared at her for a moment before asking, “Did he say anything to you?”

“Yeah, we talked about an actress named Ophelia Dixon. Mr. Priest, was that guy from the Order?”

“Yes. It’s a good thing he didn’t catch on to you—“ Baskerville stopped when he realized that maybe Moreau _had_. Maybe all this time… _I hope we leave soon._

“If that’s the guy Rommie knew, then I think—Mr. Priest, I think Ophelia Dixon is—“

“Who?” said a voice in the stable. Rommie emerged from the shadows with her arms crossed, looking displeased.

Mingchao pointed at her. “ _You_ are! How come you never told us who you really were?”

“I’m not sure why it matters,” Rommie shot back.

“What’s going on here?” Baskerville said, looking from Mingchao to Rommie. “I missed something.”

“Rommie’s really an actress named Ophelia Dixon!” Mingchao said, her face growing red. “I saw her on a show poster in Hollywood. I didn’t know it at first because she looked so different, with long hair. You never told me you were once a big star in Hollywood!”

Baskerville slapped a hand to his forehead in exasperation. This was really not the time for this. Mingchao was only making a fuss because she was still attached to her dream.

“Mingchao, can we please just wait—“ he started, but Rommie cut in.

“That isn’t my real name. It was just a stage name. Besides, that was years ago and it means nothing to me now. I had no intention of giving you my life’s story. It isn’t important. What’s important is that we leave here immediately. Vixen’s given the order that we head for Spokane Falls as soon as possible.”

“How?” asked Baskerville, forgetting the previous conversation, but Mingchao was still sputtering incoherently.

“By train,” said Rommie. Baskerville’s face fell at the thought. He hated trains. “We’ll catch one in Pasca. There’s a station there.”

“B-But—“ Mingchao stuttered, but Rommie gave her a cool stare, silencing her. The girl looked away to the ground in front of her. Some of the color had faded from her cheeks.

“Let’s go.” Rommie turned back into the stable to get their horses.

“Maybe we can talk about it later,” Baskerville offered his deflated little friend, but Mingchao remained quiet.                              

* * *

 

The ride back to Pasca was quiet. Rommie hadn’t been talkative since Mingchao brought up her past, and any words she spoke were short and to-the-point. They didn’t have much time for talk anyway. They rode quickly back to the town without resting, much to Baskerville’s discomfort. The antics Rommie pulled the previous day wore on him, but he didn’t show it in front of Mingchao. His friend was bothered enough as it was.

When they were getting close to the outskirts of Pasca, Baskerville finally broke the silence. “Are we the only ones going? What about the rest of the Posse?”

Rommie’s back was to them as she spoke. “They’ll catch up. First we need to go and scout things out a little, find out more about this Elwood Belgrade person. When the Posse arrives, we’ll figure out a plan.”

Baskerville didn’t like going into a fight without a plan, but he supposed she was right. They would have to gather information first, maybe even meet Belgrade, or at least try to get close to him. This tycoon may very well know about the bullets, if not have them already.

Benkate was waiting for them at the door of the house as soon as they arrived. When they explained what happened to the saloon, she spat off to the side. “Shoulda figured they’d do something like that. How soon do we leave?”

“As soon as you’re packed,” said Rommie curtly, and Benkate glared at her. She went away mumbling.

Baskerville worriedly watched this exchange, wondering if someday there would be conflict. Benkate was already irritable about her stolen guns. The last thing they needed was a catfight.

* * *

 

While Baskerville tended to the horses, Mingchao followed quietly behind Rommie into the room they had slept in the other night. She watched while Rommie packed a suitcase full of clothing—dresses and breeches, much to Mingchao’s curiosity. Rommie didn’t pay her any mind at first, but then the girl’s staring finally started bugging her.

“You should get ready, too,” she said, giving the girl a sidelong glance while she folded a shirt.

“Are those Vivian’s clothes?” Mingchao asked.

“That’s not what you wanted to ask me,” Rommie replied. Mingchao stiffened at her answer. Sighing, Rommie placed the shirt in the suitcase. “He was my childhood friend, and a member of the Order. We were very close, even after I drifted away from my family when I became famous. He didn’t give up on me.”

“Why would you ‘drift away’ from your family? What happened?” asked Mingchao, feeling pity.

“That’s what happens sometimes in Hollywood. Fame changes people, and those they know. It didn’t take me long to realize my dream had become a nightmare. I lost all those I truly cared about, and everyone else who pretended to love me really only wanted me for my fortune. When I lost him, I felt I had truly lost everything. My job as a performer became a chore, and my loneliness became unbearable. I had to quit.”

Stricken by this confession, Mingchao said nothing. For as long as she could remember, she wanted to be a Hollywood star, but she honestly never thought about what that would entail. She could only think about her friends. What would happen to them? As she lingered on the idea, she wondered if stardom wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. _“Dreams always come true!”_ a memory reminded her. Do they? But what if her dream was merely something that was borne out of ignorance, and when faced with reality it would crumble and die? Maybe it would come true, but no one said it would live.

Rommie continued her story. “Because I worked closely with Moreau, it wasn’t hard to discover the truth behind my friend’s death. He may seem sly, but sometimes he doesn’t know how to keep a secret. He’s such an arrogant man. I got nosy one day and found a hit list in one of his drawers in his office, and that’s when I knew.” She folded the last dress and stuffed it into the suitcase. Turning to Mingchao, she smiled sadly. “There’s another suitcase under the bed. You should get ready.”


	15. Hunter

He was a man on a journey to redemption.

Silas Clayton stepped on the train that day with every intention of finishing that journey, and he felt with a burning heart that he was finally on the right track. After years of investigation and sleepless nights of furiously scratching down notes of his discoveries and theories, he triumphantly strode onto the iron horse and resigned to wait for it to take him to his destiny.

When he sat down, however, the anxiety flooded back in the form of memories. Silas Clayton was once a famed lawman, known far and wide as “Sharp Eye.” He had captured and arrested many criminals, some of them the most wanted men in the West. He had a solid reputation until he tried to haul the last criminal to jail. The hooligan’s name was Ray Roth, an outlaw with a high price on his head. Roth was known to be exceptionally cunning, but Clayton had never lost a man in transport. That was one of the qualities that made him so dependable.

The day Roth was being taken to jail to be tried and hung was the worst day of Clayton’s life. When they were a mere five miles from town, Clayton went to check on the wagon that held Roth and found it empty. Clayton had been so sure Roth couldn’t escape that he didn’t even put a guard in the wagon with the prisoner. Besides, the wagon was surrounded by guards anyway. That Roth had escaped was some kind of divine intervention. His shackles were lying in the wagon bed with no signs of damage to them. He had picked the locks and seemingly disappeared into thin air like some magic genie.

In a panic they searched the surrounding countryside to no avail. It wasn’t until three months later that another lawman caught the escaped outlaw, and Roth was successfully hung. It was all over for “Sharp Eye” Silas Clayton. From then on, his status as a top notch copper dropped into a bottomless oblivion.

In an effort to gain back what he had lost, Clayton decided to target bigger game. As he took a seat on the train, he glanced uneasily out the window at the other boarding passengers. Any one of those people could be _them_. To his ignorance, four people boarded the train who were very much _not_ them, but they would sooner or later cross paths.

* * *

 

Mingchao came dashing down the aisle, spotting two seats in the sparsely populated railcar. She swung into one and thrust a small suitcase onto the other in front of her, saving it. Snickering, she sat back and waited, kicking her feet. Today she wore a plain blue dress instead of her usual clothes, and her hair was pulled back in a braid. When she heard approaching footsteps, she turned in her seat and watched with a grin.

Baskerville came first. He was dressed in his typical black trousers and jacket, but it was the person behind him whom Mingchao was waiting to see. Benkate was almost unrecognizable. She wore a long dress with a tight corset, carried a purse, and a bonnet was tied to her head. Her wild red hair had been tamed, tied up elegantly and some makeup had been applied to her face. She wore an uncomfortable scowl.

Behind her came Rommie, who carried herself stiffly down the aisle. She was dressed similarly except she wore a broad hat crowded with fake flowers and clutched a parasol so tightly her knuckles were white. Her ankle-high boots tapped hard on the floor of the car.

Mingchao continued to stare until all three were seated, and she bit back another snicker. The only person who wore a pleasant expression among the three was Baskerville, sitting next to her. He seemed relaxed, but for some reason he looked smug. Mingchao didn’t understand why really. Maybe it Benkate who actually amused him. Not once since he and Mingchao had met her had they ever seen her wear a dress, or _anything_ feminine. This was a first, though initially they weren’t sure they liked what they saw.

Mingchao smiled innocently. “I was telling you the truth when I said you looked nice in a dress, Benkate.”

“Shut up,” Benkate grumbled under her breath. She shifted uncomfortably in the foreign clothes, which had to be quickly altered to fit her wiry figure. “I didn’t sign up for this.”

“I told you it’s necessary,” Rommie said firmly, tapping the tip of her folded parasol on the floor. She kept her voice low. “It’s to help us keep a low profile. The Order is looking for a priest, a gunfighter, a tomboy, and a Chinese girl. They won’t notice us if all they see is a normal man, two well-to-do women, and a child.”

“Who is nonetheless still Chinese,” Benkate replied.

“Heeey,” Mingchao whined. “It’s not my fault.”

“We can’t change her face, but we can change her appearance,” said Baskerville, and then he smiled kindly. “And she’s right, you do look nice.”

Benkate muttered something under her breath and looked away, her face red.

As the train pulled forward and chugged down the tracks, their conversation faded into silence. They simply watched the landscape pass them by for a while, but then Mingchao became antsy. She turned around in her seat and glanced about the car. There weren’t very many people, but one person stood out. A young boy a few years younger than her was also turned in his seat, making faces at her. Indignant, Mingchao pushed up her nose and stuck her tongue out. This went on for another two minutes before Benkate reached across the way and yanked the girl down.

“Would you stop that?” she whispered harshly. “Just ignore the brat.”

Mingchao crossed her arms. “But I’m bored!”

“We’ll be making stops along the way,” Baskerville assured her. “Just hang in there.”

 _At least_ someone _around here cares,_ thought Mingchao with a sigh. As she settled back into her seat, she looked up at Rommie next to her and noticed she was looking intently ahead. Following her line of sight, Mingchao spotted a man sitting some ten seats away. Although he appeared to be turned toward the window, his eyes were obviously turned in their direction. The spark in them wasn’t comforting.

Before Mingchao could make a comment, Rommie suddenly stood up. “I’ll be right back,” she said flatly, and she turned down the aisle. As she made her way toward another car, the little boy jumped up from his seat to make faces at her, but Rommie responded with a quick pop to his forehead using the curved handle of her parasol. The boy fell back, stunned, and then scrambled back to his mother who was ignoring the scene. Mingchao opened her mouth to say something, but the words died on her lips.

“Where does she think she’s going?” Baskerville wondered aloud.

“To the lavatory probably,” said Benkate. “Do you really need to know?”

Baskerville shrugged. “No, I just thought it was odd.”

Benkate grinned and leaned in. “Is there something going on here that you haven’t been telling us? You’ve been acting funny since you guys got back from Los Angeles.”

“You’re delusional if you think that,” Baskerville said with skilled calm.

“Oh, that’s right. She’s much too big for you. You prefer _little girls_!” Benkate smirked and glanced at Mingchao.

Mingchao was hardly listening to the conversation. Her eyes were trained on the man ten seats down from them. He wasn’t watching them anymore, but she felt his mind was still focused on them. Nervously, Mingchao whispered, “Don’t turn now, but I think Rommie’s worried about that guy down there.”

“What does he look like?” Benkate asked in a low voice.

“He’s wearing a long brown coat and a big hat. Kinda old,” Mingchao whispered back. “He looks awful, though. He’s got a long mustache and hair, but he looks like he came out of a war or something.” Then something glinted off the sunlight streaming through the window. “He’s got a copper star!”

“So he’s a lawman,” Baskerville stated.

Mingchao sighed. “Then there’s nothing we need to worry about.”

“Not so fast there,” Benkate said. “We ought to be more wary of the law now. For all we know the Order already has them turned on us.”

“You could be right,” Baskerville agreed. He craned his neck to see down the aisle as if to look for Rommie. Was he worried?

After about twenty minutes, Rommie still hadn’t returned, but right when Mingchao was going to suggest they go look for her, Rommie suddenly appeared from the other end of the railcar. The few other people in the car looked up in surprise with questioning expressions. Mingchao could’ve sworn the woman had left from the other end.

No one said anything when she sat down, and she remained quiet, not mentioning a word about why she had disappeared. She simply set her folded parasol in her lap and gazed out the window, her face like stone. Even her hair and clothing were as meticulous as when she had left.

Mingchao folded her arms as she began to wonder. How could someone leave from one end of the car and then return from the other end? Unless... She raised her eyebrows. She happened to glance down at the hem of Rommie’s dress and noticed an ever-so-tiny red stain. If that stain was what she thought it was, then it was likely that her suspicions were correct, but the fact that everything had been so quiet puzzled her.

Mingchao saw Baskerville staring at the same spot. She watched him expectantly, but he chose to stay silent. Maybe when they reached the next town he would mention something, but for now they needed to avoid creating a scene.

When there was no response from Baskerville, Mingchao leaned back in her seat, and took a quick look past her friend. The lawman was fast asleep with his face against the window.                                

* * *

 

Mingchao pressed her hands against the glass of the display case, scrutinizing the various guns for sale. Benkate was leaned over another case across the store, talking to the shopkeeper about one gun in particular. She needed to load up on more guns and ammunition before they headed out of town again on the train the next day.

They had stopped at a mid-sized town in Oregon, and they immediately headed for a local hotel to stay. From there, Mingchao and Benkate had gone together to the gun store while Rommie and Baskerville went to run other errands. Rommie strictly told them to never go anywhere alone, and so they hadn’t. Mingchao was feeling a little burned at being paired with Benkate when she wanted to be with Baskerville, but she really had no say in the matter.

Usually Mingchao would be bored out of her mind looking at guns, but since discovering the strange half-gun it had somehow piqued her interest. Not even her Eto Gun had done that for her. _Which reminds me,_ she thought to herself, _I need to go find more animal essence._ Because they had left in a hurry, she’d left behind quite a bit of essence back at her home. Luckily she hadn’t needed to use any since the incident at the church, but she could still run out quickly if things got rough. She didn’t want to be running around trying to find a cow or a horse like she used to.

She was considering asking Benkate about a certain gun she had her eye on when another one got her attention. Her voice caught in her throat. She leaned in closer to see better. Could it be? It had to be! If it wasn’t, all of Benkate’s rare gun hunting was for naught.

She dashed across the floor to Benkate’s side, tugging on her friend’s clothes. “Benkate, you’re not gonna believe this!” she said eagerly.

“Not now, Mingchao.” Benkate shrugged her off. “I think I know which one I want now.”

“You have to look at this! I think it’s one of your old guns—a rare one!” Mingchao pointed across the store at the glass case.

“I never pawned off any of my guns,” Benkate muttered in disbelief as she and Mingchao went briskly to the display. The shopkeeper followed after them.

“See? That’s the weird cat-gun you used to have,” Mingchao said, pointing again to the rare gun. Benkate’s eyes widened in both shock and joy. Sure enough, there sitting amongst other normal guns was a gun tucked away inside the form of a small black cat.

“Oh, yes. That one came in a few days ago,” the shopkeeper said, a hint of hope in his voice. “It is certainly very unusual—“ His mouth was held open in horror as Benkate’s hand shot across the counter and grabbed the collar of his shirt.

“Who was the man who brought this in?!” she demanded. “Tell me now!”

“It—It was a w-woman!” the shopkeeper stuttered fearfully. “I don’t know who she was!”

Benkate’s grip on his shirt loosened as she stared back at him with confusion. “A woman?” she echoed. “But this _has_ to be my gun! This gun was stolen from me by the Olympus Order!” At Benkate’s proclamation, the shopkeeper’s expression became suspicious.

“Benkate,” Mingchao whispered, “don’t say that!”

“Aren’t all members of the Order men?” Benkate said to Mingchao, still holding the shopkeeper. “Shouldn’t that make it a man who brought this in?”

“Not necessarily,” the shopkeeper said calmly, moving to release Benkate’s fist from his collar. “Many members are married. Or perhaps it had been pawned previously.” He gave Benkate an even stare. “Besides, I don’t know why you’d accuse the Olympus Order of theft.”

“Benkate,” Mingchao whispered again, “I don’t want Rommie to get mad at us.”

Benkate was quiet for a moment before speaking again. She had regained her composure. “Although I’m sure this gun was stolen from me, I’d like to buy it. And a few others,” she said, but she couldn’t keep the grudge out of her voice.

Straightening his clothes, the shopkeeper took the cat-gun along with the others Benkate pointed out and laid them out for her. He looked shocked when she pulled out a few gold coins.

Mingchao gaped. “I don’t know where you get that kind of money,” she murmured under her breath.

When they had left with the guns in a sack, Mingchao looked up at Benkate with irritation. “Great. Now I bet that guy’s gonna tell on us. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a member of the Order, too.”

“Either way it doesn’t really matter, does it?” Benkate grumbled.  She didn’t deny the truth in Mingchao’s statement.

“Rommie’s going to be furious.”

“That’s why we’re not going to tell her!” Benkate said in a stern tone. “Don’t you say a word or I’ll bust your head.”

Mingchao rolled her eyes as she hefted the bag of guns over her shoulder. “Did you have to get so many?”

“We _need_ them,” Benkate replied. “How are you doing on essence?”

“I guess I’m okay for now, but I should pick something up anyway. Can’t be too prepared.” It was true that she wasn’t low on supplies, because she hadn’t needed to use the Eto Gun since the church incident, but she had a feeling things might heat up soon. In a moment of desperation she may have to use any essence on hand, regardless of the kind of bullet she chose.

They proceeded down the boardwalk and toward the hotel they had chosen to stay in. Its newly painted sign read “Liberty Hotel” and had the image of the American flag splashed above it. The clerk inside had boasted that a famous general or whoever had once stayed there, but the only reason why Rommie chose that particular hotel was because it was nicer than most of the others nearby. She felt that staying in a higher ranking establishment might give them cover and make the townsfolk believe they were noteworthy people, rather than renegades on the run.

There was a restaurant attached to one end of the hotel, and Benkate and Mingchao intended to meet with Rommie and Baskerville there, but when they arrived they only saw Rommie seated at a table, drinking tea.

“Where’s Mr. Priest?” Mingchao asked.

“He went to run some errands,” Rommie replied casually as she brought the tea to her lips. Her gaze remained on the cup.

Benkate roughly grabbed the other chair at the table and plopped down. Mingchao pulled a chair from another table and sat next to her, dropping the bag on guns on the floor.

“They’re here,” Benkate said quietly.

“I know,” Rommie replied, though she didn’t sound particularly concerned. “They tried to follow us once already. I took care of that, but it doesn’t surprise me that they’ve already managed to plant roots in a town in the middle of nowhere. It’s only a matter of time before the group here gets a message from the Los Angeles branch leader.”

“They may already know we’re here,” Benkate said, her eyes shifting around the restaurant. Mingchao sighed and crossed her arms. “We ought to get on the next train out.”

“No. I have something I need to do here. We’re leaving tomorrow,” Rommie replied.

Mingchao watched Benkate as the gunslinger clenched her fist. If they had been in private, Benkate would’ve started a fight. The girl’s bet would’ve been on Rommie.

“And where the heck is Baskerville? I thought you said we shouldn’t go anywhere alone?” Benkate said, glaring.

Rommie shrugged. “I figured he was capable on his own.” She sipped her tea again and stared back at Benkate.

Apparently fed up, Benkate stood up and said, “I’m going to my room. I’ll be sleeping, so don’t bother me.” As she sulked away toward the hotel side of the building, Mingchao heard something about “taking these stupid clothes off.”

When Benkate had tromped away, Mingchao was left alone with Rommie in an uncomfortable silence.

“You’re not going with her?” Rommie finally asked.

“Where did Mr. Priest really go?” Mingchao asked boldly.

Rommie sighed. “He went to go take care of something. Don’t worry, he’ll be back.” Pausing a moment, she then said, “Do you remember that man you saw on the train? The lawman?”

“Yeah. Was he someone you knew?”

“I don’t know him personally, but I do know _of_ him. Mingchao, if you see that man anywhere try your best to keep out of his sights. We don’t want him catching on to us. It could complicate things.”

Mingchao nodded somberly and stood up to leave, but before she did she turned back to Rommie. “Um… Did Mr. Priest eat anything while he was here?”

Rommie gave her a puzzled look. “No, he didn’t. Why?”

Mingchao shook her head, and caught herself before her expression saddened. She mustered her best smile. “It’s nothing! I was just wondering if the food was good!”

She then trotted off to the hotel.                      

* * *

 

The sun’s lingering rays cast deep shadows over the buildings, creating ghostly faces in their façades. Some gaped and some grinned, but most others looked terrified. It was as if they sensed a premonition of death.

Amid the dark shadows, another ghostly figure turned sharply from the boardwalk and down an alleyway. He wore a long coat that reached past his knees, and a wide brimmed hat that concealed his face. A coppery glint on his chest reflected the dying light of the day.

He stopped just inside the alley and waited a moment, as if sniffing the air for predators. Then he moved further in, stopping underneath some stairs that led to the second floor of one of the buildings. He remained hidden under that interplay of light and shadows, waiting to spring his trap.

For a long while he saw nothing, but he remained motionless, fearing that any movement might give him away. It wasn’t until the setting sun sunk behind the western horizon that his target arrived, slinking down the alleyway, the collar of his jacket flipped up and a hat low over his brow.

The man in the shadows pressed himself against the brick wall of the building, trying to hide himself completely until his prey passed by obliviously.  Waiting until the target was two steps beyond, the man stepped out and held his gun against the other man’s head.

“I knew I’d find you scumbags here,” the man with the gun said, his voice gravelly. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

The other man held his hands up. Although he appeared calm, his hands were shaking slightly.

“Um,” he started weakly, “I think I’d rather die by bullet.”

“Bullet? What are you talking about?” the first man asked, but he stopped when he saw what he meant. He had failed to see a third figure, taller and slimmer, standing in front of his target.

“Who the hell are you?!” the first man said, trying not to raise his voice too high.

“You again?” said the third man. He held something to the throat of the second man that gleamed. “We saw you earlier on the train.”

The first man’s eyes widened. “You were with those women!”

“And you’re the lawman,” Baskerville replied. “And what have you to do with this man?”

“I ask the same thing of you. I’ve been looking for this guy for months. He’s mine!” said Clayton.

“This guy’s been watching my friends almost all day. I don’t plan on letting him rat us out!” Baskerville countered.

The two men glared hotly at one another for a long moment before the man in the middle said, “Am I going to die or what?”

“Yes!” said Baskerville.

“No!” said Clayton.

“ _Please_ make up your minds! I think I just peed my pants!”

“Shut up!” Clayton yelled, slamming the butt of his gun against the man’s head. The man collapsed to the ground, out cold. The lawman swiftly brought his gun back up to Baskerville, who had stepped back and held the tips of several knives between his fingers. From the look of him, Clayton knew Baskerville could throw them as soon as he pulled the trigger. They’d both be dead. What good was that?

“Listen,” the lawman said sharply, “we both know this guy’s bad news, but he’s better to me alive than dead. I want him so I can question him. As long as he’s with me, he won’t be ratting your friends out.”

Baskerville gave him a warning glare. “Do you have any idea who this man is? He’s a member of the Olympus Order!”

“Heh!” Clayton grinned. “This guy’s small fry, likely initiated into the top ranks just recently. It’s likely that they’d kill him just to keep him from talking, before they’d kill me. Besides, wouldn’t you like to know what he has to say?”

Baskerville hesitated for a moment, and Clayton could tell he was thinking hard about the offer, weighing the risks.

He lowered his knives carefully, and Clayton lowered his gun.

“Now help me carry this jerk up the stairs. I have a room up there, and we can tie him up,” said Clayton, shoving his gun back in its holster.                                       

* * *

 

The curtains were closed, and a single lantern illuminated the corner of the room where the prisoner was tied to a chair. Blood clung to his shoulder in droplets from where Clayton had struck him. He blinked in the dimness.

Clayton remained seated on the bed, grinning and showing his yellow teeth at his catch. Baskerville stood by the door like a lone sentry, his gaze shifting from Clayton to their prisoner. He knew by now Mingchao and the others would be wondering where he was, especially Rommie. She probably figured the assassination would only take a short while, not an entire evening, and if she found out about this…

The man in the chair groaned as he lolled his head, and Clayton got up to stand in front of him. “What’s yer name, kid?”

“I’m not telling you anything,” the man slurred, his head bobbing. “My head hurts…”

“Good. That way I know I can hit hard enough to knock out an idiot. You’re with the Order, aren’t you?”

“What’s it to you?” the man snapped, now more awake.

Clayton snatched a portion of newspaper from his coat and shoved it in the man’s face. “You bastards did this!” he yelled. The paper was so close to the man’s face that he couldn’t focus and read it. Clayton pulled it back and read aloud: “’Missing Man Found Dead Outside Town.’ This may have been a while ago, but you sure as hell remember it. I’ve met the family of this dead man, and I knew from the beginning that it was the Order’s doing. I’ve been following your ilk for months— _years_ even! I’m bringing you suckers down.” Clayton moved his face close to the captive’s, who pulled his head away and winced as the lawman breathed on him. “I’ll see every one of you hang, and I’ll personally escort _you_ to the gallows.”

The man in the chair sulked in silence, responding to nothing Clayton said. Baskerville shifted uncomfortably. _This guy doesn’t have any information to give us, does he? This was a waste of time. I should’ve killed him when I had the chance._

“Word on the streets is the Order’s stockpiling weapons, comparable to the military,” Clayton told the prisoner. “Now what would such a benign organization like the Olympus Order need weapons for? To protect the orphanages and hospitals they sponsor? I doubt it.”

The man in the chair huffed. “That’s all a lie. Just rumors! Made up by crazy people and their conspiracy theories!”

“Like the Dawn Posse?” Baskerville said casually from the door.

The man stiffened at this comment, and Clayton watched him closely.

The lawman smiled. “I see you’ve heard of them. I hear the Order doesn’t like them much. In fact, I’ve heard that lately they’ve taken something valuable from the Order, something so valuable that the Order’s willing to burn down churches to get it.” The man in the chair clamped his mouth shut, and Clayton gave him an evil grin. “Is it a weapon?”

When the man refused to speak again, Clayton pulled out a dinner fork from his coat and roughly grabbed the man’s belt. “If you don’t wanna talk, that’s fine. But you’ll have to eventually.”

To Baskerville’s horror, Clayton began opening the man’s pants.

The captive’s eyes grew wide. “What are you doing?!” he squealed.

“Getting you to talk,” Clayton said matter-of-factly. “This won’t take long.” As he was clearing the way, he added, “Though I should probably warn you that you won’t want to visit any brothels for a while.”

With the man’s legs tied to the chair, he couldn’t kick or shove Clayton out the way. He could only squirm and thrash about, but it did him no good. Clayton raised the fork and was ready for the plunge when the man shouted, “All right!! I’ll talk! Just please…!”

“Tell me where the Order keeps their weapons!” Clayton demanded.

“Spokane Falls!” the man replied shrilly.

Baskerville, who had been leaning against the door, jolted upright.

“ _Where_ in Spokane Falls?”

The man lowered his head miserably. “The Mauglin Building. They’re keeping most of it in the Mauglin Building.”

“Most of it?” Clayton inquired with suspicion. “If not all of it, then where’s the rest?”

“In various cities. I don’t know them all, but I do know most of them are in Spokane Falls.”

Baskerville stepped in. “Does this stockpile include a collection of rare guns?”

Clayton glanced up at him curiously.

The man in the chair squinted at him. He hesitated a moment, and Clayton brought up the fork again. “Yes!” the man replied quickly.

“How many?” Baskerville pressed.

“I don’t know. I-I only heard the higher-ranking members talking about it.”

“Have you heard anything about a seven-foot folding rifle?” Baskerville asked again as he leaned over him.

The prisoner’s eyebrows drew together as if wondering why Baskerville was asking these strange questions. “I don’t know that, either.” He glared at him a little longer and said, “I know your face from somewhere.”

Clayton, who had been mildly watching this exchange, brought a hand up to rub his chin. “That’s what I was thinking earlier as well.”

“I’m not surprised,” Baskerville said with calm. He whipped out one of his knives and pressed it to the man’s throat. “Ever heard of the Syndicate?”

The prisoner’s face went pale at first, but then he chuckled boldly. “I heard those bozos got beat out by a bunch of whippersnappers.”

“I was one of those whippersnappers,” Baskerville said dangerously. “Now unless you value your life, I’d advise you not to anger me or this lawman here. Even if it takes all night, you’re going to tell us everything you know about the Olympus Order.”


	16. Musophobia

The first rays of the sunshine began bleeding into the eastern horizon that morning when Baskerville snuck across the street. He had hoped to get out of the hotel sooner, but the interrogation went on for longer than he had planned. He knew he couldn’t stay, so he had to leave with what information he had gathered, hardly saying another word to the lawman. The old man had let him go peacefully and without question. Perhaps Clayton saw him as an ally, but Baskerville may have tipped him off by mentioning the Dawn Posse. After all, they were also considered to be outlaws.

It was still too early for any of the townsfolk to be up and about, but he knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long. He kicked himself for staying out so late, because he knew it would show. Baskerville had yet to look in a mirror, but he was sure it wasn’t pretty. He had spatters of blood on his clothes from when he had struck the prisoner, and he felt haggard. Worst of all, the ache in his chest had returned. He wished very much that the saloon would open earlier. A potent glass of whiskey sounded heavenly right about now. _But_ _I have to get back before the others see me like this._

He hurried toward the hotel, barely acknowledging the hotel clerk behind the front counter. The man gave him a surprised look as he passed by, but said nothing. Baskerville reached his personal room when he heard another door down the hallway opening. He didn’t stop to see who it was.

Quickly discarding his dirty clothes, he pulled out a new pair he had purchased during the trip. He rinsed his face in the wash basin and tried to comb his hair. During the process of untangling knots, he was beginning to wonder if what Rommie said about his hair had been true.

Certain he was of an acceptable appearance, Baskerville rested on the bed and let his mind drift away to sleep. His strength had been spent, but as exhausted as he was the ache in his chest kept him from falling asleep completely. He phased in and out of consciousness, dreaming occasionally of his little sister. The dreams were pleasant until the images of Chisel’s sweet smile and laughter were shattered by terrifying shrieks of unspeakable horror.

 _Who’s screaming?_ When his brain faded out of dream mode and back into reality, he came fully awake to the shouting. He sat bolt upright and listened. _It’s coming from down the hall…where Mingchao is!_

Tumbling out of the bed, Baskerville hit the floor and struggled to his feet, reaching for the door. He almost hit the wall on the other side of the hall on his way out, and made a mad dash for Mingchao’s room….only to find Mingchao actually standing outside in the hall. Benkate was with her, and the both of them were peering into another open room.

“What’s happening?” he asked and he came to stand with them. Benkate looked at him with tears in her eyes. “Are you okay?” When Baskerville looked at her again, he saw that they weren’t tears of grief, but tears of _laughter._

Benkate gasped as she tried to speak. “You’ve gotta see this! This is gonna make my whole trip!”

Mingchao on the other hand looked as if she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be frightened. She said nothing and just stared at the spectacle before her. She seemed to forget that she was standing out in the open in a nightgown. Benkate wasn’t much better. And people were beginning to open their doors and stare at them.

Baskerville pulled Mingchao away from the door and pushed past Benkate. The screams had died down to pathetic whimpers by then, and he was astounded by what he saw. Rommie stood atop a chair in a pair of bloomers and a shirt, barefoot. Whatever had happened, she had been getting dressed. She stood there trembling, gazing fearfully at the floor.

“What is going on?” Baskerville demanded. “You woke up the whole damn town!”

“Please kill it!” Rommie cried. “Kill it!”

Baskerville turned and looked at Benkate, who was holding her hand over her mouth to keep from bursting into more laughter.

“What is she _talking_ about?” he asked.

Without saying anything, Benkate pointed at the floor, near one of the legs of the chair Rommie was standing on. When Baskerville followed her pointing finger, he saw a small mouse scurrying around the chair, sniffing the floor for food probably.

Baskerville sighed heavily, the ache in his chest throbbing. _Why is it always mice?_

Mingchao moved past him and approached the mouse calmly. “There, there,” she said to the animal, “she won’t scare you anymore.” Before it could make an escape, Mingchao scooped it up in her hands and smiled.

“You’re taking _its_ side?!” Rommie squeaked in disbelief. Her face had turned red with embarrassment as she was beginning to realize that she wasn’t fully dressed yet. She crouched and grabbed onto the sides of the chair apprehensively. She never took her eyes off Mingchao’s cupped hands as the girl left the room with the mouse. “There could be more,” she said, her voice shaking.

“You’ll thank her later,” Baskerville said, and she probably would. What Mingchao had picked up was pretty much ammunition for the Eto Gun. Or breakfast.

“Uh, Baskey,” he heard Benkate call, “you might want to go now.” Baskerville turned to see Benkate point at Rommie. “She’s about ready to—“

When Baskerville turned again, Rommie had hoisted the chair above her head. He could feel her fury like a blazing fire.

“GET OUT!” she hollered, her face flushed a crimson red. She swung the chair and Baskerville barely managed to elude her. He felt a hand grab the back of his collar and yank him out the door, and the door slammed so hard it shook the building.

Stunned, Baskerville stood with Benkate behind him, her hands still clutching his jacket. They could hear angry muttering behind the door, and what was probably the chair clattering to the floor. They looked at each other, but then Benkate began to giggle uncontrollably.

“That...That was…That was hysterical!” she said between fits of laughter, but Baskerville only scowled at her. He was nearly pummeled to death by a pencil-chucking Amazon in her underwear! But he supposed he owed her his thanks for saving him from being horribly maimed.

“I’m so tired,” he mumbled, and he parted from Benkate to go back to his room. “Don’t bother me anymore today.”

The last thing he heard as he entered his room was Benkate’s laughter and the confused murmuring of the other hotel guests as they tried to make sense of what they had just witnessed.

He managed to sleep well into late morning, and when he awoke and saw the clock on the wall, he wondered why no one had bothered to wake him. The pain in his chest had ebbed, but it still wasn’t gone. Rousing himself, Baskerville decided to head downstairs to the bar and order a drink.

On his way downstairs, he didn’t see Mingchao or the others. _They don’t wake me up and they’re nowhere to be found. I thought the train was supposed to leave earlier this morning?_

He ordered a drink from the bartender, who gave him a puzzled look. “Are you feeling all right?” the bartender asked, peering into his face.

Baskerville shrugged. “I’m fine, why?”

“You just look a little pale, that’s all.”

Chuckling with a carefree smile, Baskerville said, “Oh, no. I always look that way.”

The bartender gave him one last concerned inspection before shrugging. “Whatever you say. If you need anything else…”

Baskerville sat over his drink, letting its potency calm his nerves and aching chest. His mind began going over the interrogation last night, wondering how he was going to tell Rommie that he’d let the prisoner go, and into the hands of a stranger no less. The image of Rommie’s angry looming chair returned to his thoughts. He shivered.

As he was taking a swig of his whiskey, he felt a presence near him and heard the sound of someone taking the stool next to him. Not bothering to look, he smiled bitterly. “Benkate, if you say anything about this morning—“

“Trust me, no one’s saying anything about this morning,” said a different voice. Baskerville nearly fell back off the chair when he glanced at his unexpected visitor. Rommie’s glaring eyes bore into him and made him choke on his words. He let out a nervous chuckle instead.

“It’s not this morning I’m concerned about anyway,” Rommie said in a hard tone. “Did you take care of our stalker last night like we’d planned?”

Baskerville fiddled with his shot glass. “Well…not quite.” Before Rommie could say anything, he added quickly, “Actually, it may have gone _better_ than planned.”

Rommie leaned in close to him, making him a little uncomfortable. “ _Nothing_ is better than if he were dead.”

Baskerville paused and looked into her eyes. An eerie feeling crept into his heart. “Rommie,” he said gently, “I never took you for a heartless killer.”

Rommie blinked at his words. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. She turned and faced the counter.

“If anything, the Order will take care of him. Don’t stoop to their level. Trust me, I know what’s it’s like to lose someone I care about and want revenge more than anything else. But we can’t just go around killing people like they’re animals.”

“I’m not looking for revenge,” Rommie said, almost too quiet for Baskerville to hear. He stopped again and studied her.

“What do you mean? Why else could you be pursuing them?” he asked.

“I don’t believe in revenge,” Rommie stated. She placed her finger in a water droplet that had fallen on the counter and dragged a watery trail toward her. “And you’re right. It wasn’t right for me to say that.”

Astonished, Baskerville was beginning to wonder if this was the same woman who had nearly beat him with a chair earlier that morning. “You don’t…believe in revenge?”

Rommie was quiet for a moment, and then said, “No. It can too easily become an endless cycle of vendettas. In the end, no one wins. Only the dead find victory and freedom. And what kind of a person does it make us when we take pleasure in harming the other person whom we believe wronged us? Does it make us any better than them? Like you just told me, I shouldn’t stoop to their level.”

An uneasy silence descended between them as they considered each others words. Baskerville ordered another drink, and when he offered to buy one for Rommie, she declined.

“So, where are Benkate and Mingchao?” Baskerville finally ventured. “I hope they’re not causing any mischief.” He laughed to lighten the mood.

“They went to another gun shop in town. Benkate’s just checking to see if any more of her guns could be found here,” Rommie said.

“Which brings me back to what I was going to tell you earlier,” said Baskerville. He kept his voice low as he glanced around the room. “I ran into that lawman last night while following that guy.”

Rommie’s eyes went wide. “What happened?”

“We agreed to take him together, and we questioned him all night. Apparently the Order’s been storing guns in a building in Spokane Falls. The man told us that Benkate’s guns are there as well.”

“And if the bullets are in that town, too… Then we may not have much time.” She looked at him sharply. “What happened to the lawman? Where is he?”

“I don’t know. I only got back just this morning. He was still there when I left.”

“This isn’t good. If he knows about what the Dawn Posse is trying to do—“

“I don’t think we need to worry about that. He may very well be on our side. From what I saw last night, this man holds no love for the Order.” When Rommie gave him an uncertain look, he smiled back at her. “It’s okay. I can read people like him easily enough.”

“If that’s so, then if we run into him again, he’s your problem,” Rommie quipped.

“Thank you for trusting me,” Baskerville replied dryly.                                

* * *

Benkate went tromping down the boardwalk, having just left another gun shop. The hem of her fine dress had been sullied from walking through the street, and her hulking figure attracted the stares of wary men. Was this really a woman?

Mingchao trotted just to keep up with Benkate’s long strides. “Benkate, slow down!”

They hadn’t found another of Benkate’s guns in any of the shops they had visited, but finding just that one gave her hope, and yet not finding another was driving her to madness.

“There’s gotta be another shop around here somewhere!” she said through gritted teeth.

“I don’t think there is,” Mingchao said, glancing at the other side of the street. “This town’s not very big…”

“Then every town we come to, we’ll search every single gun shop. The Order might be leaving a trail that way.”

“But how do we know we’re going the right way? We only started searching today,” Mingchao pointed out. “Can we _please_ go back? I’m worried about Mr. Priest.”

“Worried?” Benkate looked down at the girl incredulously. Then she smiled broadly and placed a hard hand on the girl’s head. “You don’t need to worry about him. He’s strong. Besides, he’s got Rommie with him.” When she looked closer at her friend, she saw her pouting. “Oh, come on. It’s not like he’s going to run off with her and get married.” She grinned again.

Mingchao blushed. “That’s not what I mean! This morning he didn’t look well—“

Before she could finish her sentence, Benkate grabbed her roughly and pulled her into an alley, clamping a hand over her mouth.

“Shh!” Benkate shushed. “It’s that guy again.”

They both fixed their eyes on an imposing figure walking on the boardwalk across the street. It was the lawman, and he didn’t look too happy. The long coat he wore was filthy, but when Benkate looked hard enough, she thought she could see what looked like red marks on its tanned hide. Blood?

Mingchao pried off Benkate’s hand and looked up at her. She looked queasy. “Do you think he’s following us?” she asked. One of her hands dropped to the Eto Gun.

“Could just be coincidence,” Benkate said, “but…there’s sort of a bounty on my head at the moment. I really shouldn’t let him see me.”

The two peered around the corner of a building and watched the lawman walk away. “It looks like he’s headed for the hotel we’re staying at,” Mingchao observed. “Mr. Priest and Rommie are probably still there!”

Grinding her teeth, Benkate was trying to think of what to do. She thought maybe they should try to run ahead and warn the others, but then again it would probably be better if they remained separated. It wouldn’t help if they all got in trouble at the same time. Someone would need to bail them out.

Mingchao sighed. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s just a coincidence.”

Benkate shook her head. “At this time, we can’t afford to assume that. Let’s try to head back to the hotel through a back way. We can ambush the guy if he tries anything funny.”

“Okay,” Mingchao agreed. She checked inside her clothes to see what kind of animal essence she had, chose one, and sprinkled a little on the Eto Gun. “I’m ready.”

Benkate had planned to dash across the street and down into another alley, but when she and Mingchao stepped out onto the boardwalk they collided with another person.

“Excuse me!” said the man, surprised. “I didn’t see you coming, miss!”

Biting back a growl, Benkate tried to smile cordially. “Oh, no. It’s my fault, sir. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” _I can’t do this proper lady stuff,_ she thought irritably. But then she got a good look at the man’s face, and she almost gasped.

The man standing before her was no older than she was, and outrageously handsome. He carried an aristocratic air, and he wore a fashionable suit, all jet black, the same color as his neatly styled hair. When he smiled at her, Benkate almost lost her sense of place as she stared at the comely shape of his lips.

 _Holy crap! This guy’s a looker!_ She stood there gaping and was only able to come to when she felt Mingchao pinch her arm. “Ow!”

“Benkate, he’s getting away!” the girl whispered harshly.

“Who? What?” Benkate looked up and around. “Oh! Uh, sorry, s-sir. We’ll just be out of your way.”

Even while they were walking away, Benkate kept staring at the young man, and he continued to watch them curiously. “I’m gonna have to look him up later,” she mumbled dreamily.

“Oh, good grief,” Mingchao griped. “That lawman is probably at the hotel by now!” She grabbed Benkate’s wrist and dragged her until the stranger was out of sight.

* * *

After slipping around the corner to the hotel, Benkate and Mingchao dashed through the front doors to find Baskerville sitting at the bar by himself. His gaze shot up from his drink, startled.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned.

Keeping her voice low, Benkate leaned in close. “It’s that lawman we saw on the train. He was headed this way, but…” She looked around anxiously. “I don’t see him here.”

“I haven’t seen him come in,” Baskerville said. “He could’ve been going to any one of the hotels in the area.”

“I don’t like him, Mr. Priest,” Mingchao said. “He always looks so…grumpy. Maybe we should get on the next train out?”

“Rommie said we weren’t leaving for a few more hours.”

“What for?” Benkate asked, annoyed. “There’s another train that’s supposed to be leaving here in about thirty minutes. Why don’t we just get one that one? I don’t understand why Rommie would make us wait so long.”

“She says she’s waiting for a telegraph from the Posse,” Baskerville said. “So far we haven’t run into any problems, so I think we can wait.” That was only somewhat true. Except for the quiet incident on the train, and the stalker, they hadn’t had any direct run-ins with the Order, although they were certainly being watched. Because the Posse had been on the move, the Order probably suspected that they knew something.

While Benkate and Baskerville discussed this further, Mingchao ambled away and peeked into another room. She felt certain that the lawman had been making his way here, but where could he be? The man had seen them on the train, so he had to find it doubtful that they really were who they appeared to be. She could see it in his eyes when he’d looked at her. _He just has to be following us!_

Without saying anything to the others, Mingchao bolted up the stairs and headed for Rommie’s room. As she stood at the door, she knocked lightly. “It’s me,” she whispered.

Rommie opened the door a crack and eyed the girl. “What now?” she asked. “Don’t stand out there. Come in.”

When Mingchao entered, she closed the door and watched as Rommie packed the last of her clothes into a suitcase. When her eyes settled on the mangled chair from earlier, she caught herself before she giggled.

“What did you want?” Rommie asked flatly.

Mingchao explained to her the situation with the lawman. “Do you think he’s after us?”

“Not really,” Rommie replied. “In fact, I think it’s a sign that the Order is nearby. I actually think I recognize the man.”

“You do? Why didn’t you say anything before?” Mingchao crossed her arms. “You really have a problem with telling people the _whole_ truth.”

Glaring at her, Rommie pursed her lips. “I didn’t want to say anything because I don’t want to alarm anyone. Listen, I don’t actually _know_ the man. I’ve only ever heard about him. And I didn’t realize who he was until just a while ago.” Earlier, Baskerville had tried to assure her that the lawman didn’t mean any harm toward them, but she couldn’t be certain of that. Just because he wouldn’t side with the Order didn’t mean he’d side with the Posse, either. The Posse wasn’t exactly on the right side of the law, as far as law enforcement was concerned. Clayton may be of some help, but he could easily turn on them in a second.

“I believe this man is someone who’s after the Order,” Rommie explained. “I’ve heard of some people other than the Posse who are looking to bring them down. But that doesn’t mean we should ally ourselves with them, so we need to steer clear of this man.” She pressed down on the cover of the suitcase so she could fasten it shut. “Do you have your things together?”

“Yeah,” Mingchao replied, but she sounded distant.


	17. Bat out of Hell

Benkate was sitting at the bar with Baskerville, chugging down a beer. Baskerville watched her nervously.

"Should you really be drinking that much right now?" he asked.

Benkate stopped and wiped her mouth with a heavy sigh. "I don't care. It's like I'm both happy and freaked out at the same time. I can't believe I found one of my guns!" She leered over at him. "Besides, you've been drinking an awful lot yourself."

"That's because I have a condition!"

"And what's with you and Rommie keeping secrets? You sure spend a lot of time around her."

"Now that's the beer talking," Baskerville countered. "That has nothing to do with why I've been drinking. And we don't keep secrets."

Benkate laughed raucously. "Deny it all you want, Baskey! You got a thing going with her."

"I do not!" Baskerville said firmly. "I swear, I've never met such a lunatic."

"Who? Me or her?"

"The both of you!"

"You better watch out. You'll make Mingchao jealous!"

"I won't make anyone jealous because I'm not doing anything!"

As they bantered back and forth, they were unaware of someone entering through the doors of the hotel's saloon. The stranger moved toward the bar, walking between a few tables where some men were playing cards. The men at the tables looked up at him, and then looked at each other. Faster than anyone could say "royal straight flush" the men scrambled from the tables and hightailed for the door. Baskerville and Benkate were oblivious to the fact that they were now alone in the saloon. Even the bartender had taken to the backroom where he escaped out a door.

"Hey, it's quiet all of a sudden," Benkate said.

"That's because you stopped talking," Baskerville mocked.

"No, I mean it's _really_ quiet." She gazed down the bar. "Where's the bartender?"

The two looked at each other, and then slowly turned to look behind them. Benkate would've melted into a happy puddle if it weren't for the two massive guns whose shining barrels were aimed at their heads. Standing placidly before them was the man in black who had run into her and Mingchao earlier.

"I knew it was too good to be true," Benkate lamented, and her companion looked at her quizzically.

Baskerville turned to the man. "Is there something you'd like to say?" he asked coolly. He pretended to cross his arms so he could reach for his knives.

Benkate's fingers twitched with a desire to reach for her single gun. She had unfortunately left her newly purchased weapons in her hotel room.

"I'm looking for Rommie Linehart," the man said, as if making casual conversation.

Baskerville furrowed his brow. "Rommie who?"

Benkate gave him a sidelong glance.

"You two have been traveling with her since you left L.A.," the man in black attested. His voice was gentle as if speaking to a child. "She's the right-hand-woman of the leader of the Dawn Posse. Don't pretend you don't know her."

An uncomfortable silence ensued, but the man's guns remained steadily aimed between the eyes of the two companions.

"What room is she in?" the man asked.

"She isn't here," Benkate lied.

An eerie light flared up in the man's eyes, and he smiled. "What a pretty little liar you are."

Benkate shivered happily. "You hear that, Baskey? He said I was pretty!"

"Have you forgotten this man is threatening to kill us?" mumbled Baskerville.

"I'm not in the mood to play games," the stranger said pleasantly. "I was told you two—and the kid—were perfectly expendable. I could leave your bloody corpses here for Rommie to find later. I'll simply be waiting here for her."

Baskerville tried to keep his face like stone, but in truth his mind was racing. "She's upstairs, in Room Twelve."

Benkate gawked. "Baskerville, how…!" Then she stopped. That wasn't the room Rommie was staying in. It was Baskerville's.

The man smiled. "Up," he commanded, gesturing with his guns. The two at the bar obeyed, standing up and turning towards the stairs, but then Baskerville suddenly cried out.

"Rommie!" he shouted, turning to look to his right.

The man in black whipped around, expecting to find someone there, but there was only empty space. He felt a sharp sting on his cheek, followed by a loud curse. He had managed to maneuver himself just in time as Baskerville let fly a knife aimed for his head.

Faster than anyone anticipated, the man brought up his guns and a volley of gunfire ripped through the air—and all the furniture.

Dodging over and behind the bar, Baskerville grasped several more knives, while Benkate pulled out her gun, the one shaped like a cat.

"He's with the Order, isn't he?" Benkate shouted above the din. Fragments of glass and chips of wood rained down on the two as the shelves of alcohol were being demolished. The floor under them was becoming slick with whiskey and beer. Behind her, she could feel as bullets lodged themselves into the thick bar. She wondered if the bartender had it made specifically for occasions like this.

"I don't know!" Baskerville said, trying to wait for an open moment to throw his knives. "But he knows Rommie somehow!"

"How is he able to fire two guns like that?" Benkate asked in wonder. "It reminds me of that time we saved Yaghi from Blush!"

Not able to answer, Baskerville began looking for a way out. If anything, he'd like Benkate to get out, but the only way out was at the end of the bar where it opened to the staircase that led into the hotel. "Benkate, give me your gun."

"What? This is my only gun—"

"I'll give you a few of my knives!"

"But I can't throw like you can!"

"Just do your best!" Baskerville yelled. "You need to get upstairs and escape with the others!"

Benkate stared at him, dumbfounded. "But, Baskerville… No, I'm tired of you being the sacrificial lamb! Let me do it for once!"

"And you could at least do as I say without arguing for once!"

"Fine!" Benkate conceded angrily. "Give me your stupid knives!"

Benkate handed over her gun while she took Baskerville's knives. She knew the best she could do was chuck them, though she doubted she'd hit anything.

Suddenly the shots ceased, and there was silence. He was likely reloading his guns.

"Wait until he starts shooting again," Baskerville told Benkate quietly.

The man's voice rang out in stillness. "Now, now. There's no need for me to waste so many bullets with these fine machines. If you come out, we'll simply go upstairs to Rommie's room. I promise I won't kill you."

"Not right away," Benkate muttered. She stayed still in her place, waiting for the noise to start. There was too much glass and debris to move quietly.

"No," Baskerville answered. "Besides, she's probably gone by now because you made such a racket! Your being here is pointless!"

"So she _is_ here then?" the man perked up, a crooked grin spreading across his face.

"No, it's like I said," Baskerville started, but then he stood up suddenly, aiming for the man's heart, "she _was_ here!"

In the half second before Baskerville could pull the trigger, a shout halted him. He and the man in black turned quickly to find Mingchao standing at the upstairs railing. She held the Eto Gun in unsteady hands, her face twisted in fury.

"Y-You!" she yelled. "Stop shooting at my friends!"

"Whoa," Benkate breathed. "I've never seen her that mad."

The man in black seemed pleased to see the girl. "There you are. You saved me the trouble of finding you."

"Mingchao!" Baskerville screamed. "Why didn't you run away?"

"I'm not gonna run away when my friends are in danger!" Mingchao replied. She had the Eto Gun aimed at the man in black, and from all appearances she intended to use it. "I won't let you hurt them! If you go now, I won't shoot!"

"I wouldn't trifle with her!" Benkate called out. "She means business!"

The man in black laughed heartily, and Baskerville eyed him. Inching back down behind the bar, Baskerville proceeded to cover his head with his arms. Benkate followed.

* * *

Rommie wasn't able to keep Mingchao from running out the door and into the commotion. The girl had insisted on helping her friends, and she assured Rommie that she knew how to do it. She remembered Mingchao pulling out her bizarre gun and smiling. "Trust me. This'll take care of everything."

Stunned, Rommie had watched the girl run out of her room. When the gunfire stopped, she came to her senses and gathered her pencils. _There'd have to be at least a dozen men down there to make that much noise!_ As she dashed through the door and down the hall, she wondered. _Why is the Order attacking us_ now _?_

As she reached the end of the hall, she pressed herself against the wall and peered around the corner. She could see Mingchao aiming her gun at something, and she could tell she was irate. From her place in the hallway, she couldn't see where Baskerville and Benkate were, although she heard some movement.

"Leave my friends alone!" Mingchao demanded.

Something didn't seem right. If there were a dozen men down there, why couldn't Rommie hear them? And why did Mingchao think she could take on all of them with just one gun?

Each time Mingchao made a demand, there was only silence. Finally, the girl said, "What's wrong with you? Stop staring at me like that!"

 _She's losing her nerve_ , Rommie thought worriedly.

"Just shoot him, Mingchao!" Benkate shouted from down below. "We're ready for it!"

 _Ready for what?_ Rommie wondered. She clasped a pencil in her hand and crept closer to the scene. _I'll just grab Mingchao away from the railing…_

As she reached her hand out slowly to take hold of Mingchao's collar, another shot split the air, one that thundered. She saw Mingchao lower her gun in surprise, and she took the chance to grab the girl's collar and pull her away from the railing. Mingchao made a fuss, but Rommie held her tightly.

"Rommie, what are you doing?" Mingchao screeched. "I have to help Mr. Priest and Benkate!"

"That gunshot came from a rifle!" Rommie said. "You're going to get yourself killed!" While she was trying to keep Mingchao in her grasp, she could hear a new voice confronting the stranger down below.

"You're pretty good to have dodged that," another man croaked dryly.

"Or maybe you're just too slow?" a younger voice replied. "You _are_ pretty old, you know."

"Who's down there?" Rommie asked Mingchao in a hushed tone. The girl had been struggling so much that she didn't catch what had been said.

"A man in black with huge silver guns," Mingchao replied grimly. "I don't know who the other guy is."

"Huge silver guns?" Rommie repeated softly. She snapped her gaze in the direction of the open room, a sudden fear etching itself across her features.

"Please, Rommie!" Mingchao pleaded. "Please let me back out there! I know I can help them!"

"No!" Rommie snapped. "Not with that guy out there!"

"But—But nothing can win against my Eto Gun!" said Mingchao. "Its bullets are faster than any gun's!"

Rommie gave her a hard stare, and she glanced down at the unusual gun with disbelief. "What is it, magic or something?"

"Sure is!" the girl beamed. "If you let me go, I can show you what I mean."

Rommie's heart raced as she thought about it. _If anything happens to her, it'll be my fault, but so far she's proved trustworthy._ "Fine," she said, "but I'm going with you. If you get shot, I'm pulling you out and we're outta here, with or without your friends."

In spite of Rommie's cold reply, Mingchao took up her gun and led the way. As they silently stepped up to the railing, Mingchao had her gun at ready, and Rommie held her pencils.

To her shock, Rommie only saw two other people down below: the man in black and the lawman, Silas Clayton. Clayton had his rifle at ease next to him, as if he didn't care at all that the other man might shoot.

The lawman smirked "You scum… You're all over the place, aren't you? But I'm here to clean up your filth."

"Those are big words for a washed-up old sheriff," the man in black replied evenly. "You're that fool Silas Clayton, a hero of justice seeking to topple the impenetrable Olympus Order." He smiled sweetly, mocking him.

Up above, Rommie froze behind Mingchao at the sound of the young man's voice. The girl in front of her was unaware of her sudden trepidation. _Mingchao, if you plan to do this, do it_ now _!_

The man in black raised one of his guns slowly, but the lawman remained still. The old man just grinned at him madly, but then the grin vanished when his nemesis raised his other gun to point up and behind him. Then he turned his head to look up at the two by the railing.

He seemed to sing her name. "Rommie."

Mingchao's gun lowered slightly as she gazed up Rommie. Rommie's face was seized with a combination of terror and loathing. She trembled furiously.

"Shoot him, Mingchao," she told the girl in a shaking voice.

"Come down, Rommie," the man in black said. "I've traveled miles to find you. I don't want to have to damage your perfectly beautiful body." His head snapped back towards the lawman as Clayton raised his rifle.

"You're outnumbered," Clayton told him sternly.

The man in black shook his head mildly. "That's not a problem."

Rommie grimaced. _All he has to do is pull both triggers at the same time._

"Come on!" Benkate groused from behind the bar. "Someone _do_ something!"

"Rommie," the man in black said again. "If you come with me, I'll spare your friends—"

"NO! I'm _never_ coming with you!" Rommie shrieked. "Mingchao, SHOOT HIM!" She clutched the girl's shoulders frantically, but Mingchao hesitated.

Then, the man in black took the gun that was aimed at Clayton and swiftly pointed it back at the bar, where Baskerville had suddenly stood again and aimed Benkate's gun back at him.

Upon seeing her friend in danger, Mingchao pulled the trigger. "Eat bird bullet, you chump!"

A bright light filled the room and blinded its inhabitants. When Rommie's eyes were able to focus again, a strange swirling streak spiraled upwards towards the high ceiling. The sound it made reminded her of rushing wind mixed with crackling ice. She thought she could spot the form of a graceful bird at the head of the streak.

For a moment, the bird with a comet-like tail flew in circles above them, but then took a nose dive toward the man in black. The man attempted to bring up both of his guns to counter it, but then a dazzling glow obscured the fatal moment.


	18. Woman Down

Everyone ducked for cover as the floorboards of the saloon erupted into a shower of splinters in every direction, even throwing a few sizeable chunks. A cloud of dust and fragments choked the air, leaving everyone coughing and gasping.

Mingchao wiped her watery eyes. "Did I get him?"

Rommie coughed, trying to see into the dust. "I don't know. What on earth was that?"

"That was a bird bullet," Mingchao explained.

"You put a _bird_ in your gun?"

"No, it's not like that." Mingchao stopped and sighed. "I'll tell you about it some other time."

"He's gone!" they heard the cracked voice of the lawman say.

"How?" Mingchao leaned over the railing. As the dust was beginning to clear somewhat, she could see the badly destroyed floor of the saloon, but there was no sign of the man in black. Had he run before the bullet hit?

Rommie and Mingchao dashed down the stairs to look at the bullet's handiwork. Rommie was breathless that a gun could have that sort of power.

Mingchao bounded over to the bar. "Mr. Priest!"

"Oh, yeah, worry about _him_ , why don't ya?" Benkate griped, but she knew Mingchao had good reason to be concerned. As the girl rounded the corner of the bar, she paused, and then cut loose across the floor toward her friend. Benkate had been holding Baskerville's head and hand as he lay slumped against the wall. He was moaning weakly.

Mingchao clutched him to her and was beginning to cry when Rommie came around to see what was happening. The lawman came close behind her.

"Is he shot?" the old man asked brusquely.

"No," Benkate replied. "It's…an old wound."

Mingchao looked up long enough to peer into Baskerville's face. "I haven't seen him this bad before." She sobbed. "I'm sorry! It's my fault I used the Eto Gun when you weren't hiding!"

"N…No," Baskerville said, breathing heavily. He turned his eyes on Mingchao. "You…did the right…thing. You…saved us. Thank you…Mingchao."

Rommie turned away from the others, pretending to examine the damage on the floor. _No, it's my fault. I was so frantic that I pressured her into shooting._ She sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

"You should get going," she heard Clayton say behind her. Whirling, Rommie gave him a glare.

"Why are you here?" she asked him suspiciously.

"I'll answer your questions later," the lawman replied. "This man needs help. He needs a doctor—"

"No," Benkate said. "He can't see a doctor. There's no treatment for what he has."

Clayton raised his bushy eyebrows. "Is that so?" He turned back to Rommie, his eyes serious. "But you should still get going. That man'll be back. He knows where you are now."

A million questions swirled around in her head, but Rommie knew she didn't have time to ask any of them. She looked to Benkate. "Can we move him?"

Before Benkate could answer, Baskerville spoke first. "I'll…be fine. Do what you must."

Clayton turned his eyes sharply on Rommie. "The train leaves in ten minutes. You can make it. I'll help you carry him."

* * *

As the train pulled away from the station, Baskerville had already been placed on a bed in a sleeper car. Moving him had been cumbersome, but with Clayton's help they'd managed to get him on the train. They ignored the stares of other passengers as they had made their way to their car.

Mingchao stayed by her friend's side, wetting a cloth and placing it on his forehead. She reported optimistically that he seemed to be getting better since resting, and hoped that by the end of the day he would be able to eat something, or at least sit up.

Mingchao left the sleeper car to go get more water, leaving Rommie to watch over Baskerville. Benkate sat across the way, watching them intently. "Where'd Clayton run off to?"

"I'm not sure," Rommie said softly, watching Baskerville. "I'm sure he's just keeping his distance."

Benkate rubbed her chin. "Who was that guy with the guns anyway?" She glanced at Rommie. "You knew him, didn't you?"

At first Rommie didn't answer. She just looked at Baskerville regretfully. Sighing, she said, "Yes."

"He seemed fond of you—in a creepy sort of way," Benkate recalled. "Why did he want you to come with him?"

"I'm actually not sure of that. He and I…go way back."

"Is he with the Order?"

"Yes."

"Then they must be on to us," said Benkate gravely. "They probably know where we're going."

Rommie just stared into space. Her mind was still reeling from the incident in the saloon: the destruction, the man in black, the bird bullet… So much had happened all at once that she was just barely bringing together shards of information.

Baskerville groaned softly and shifted his head. He opened his eyes to look at Rommie. "They know that you know," he said, his voice stronger than it was earlier.

Rommie returned from her thoughts. "That I know what?"

"That you know where the bullets are."

Benkate leaned forward. "You think that guy was trying to kidnap Rommie to get information out of her?"

Baskerville nodded. "Possibly." He tried to sit up using his elbows, but Benkate told him to lie back down. He continued, "He probably didn't want to take anyone except Rommie because she knows more about the Posse than we do. Holding hostage the second-in-command also gives the Order significant leverage."

"You're right," Benkate agreed, but then she glanced at Rommie. "And that guy knew your name. If that's the case, then the Order probably knows, too."

Rommie looked down at her hands in her lap. _How long have they known? Armand didn't show any sign of knowing when we were in Hollywood, otherwise he would've had us easily captured. Maybe he really doesn't know, and that only a few do?_ She shivered when she remembered the face of the man in black. _If we ever come across him again…_

Mingchao opened the door and came in with a bowl of water and a fresh towel. She dipped it, rung it out, and placed it on Baskerville's forehead.

"Mingchao, why don't you get some rest and let us take care of him for a while?" Rommie offered.

Mingchao smiled when she looked down at her friend. "No, that's okay. I'm used to it."

Benkate grinned. "Wow, Baskey, you've become quite popular with the ladies."

Baskerville chuckled wryly. "Uh huh." Color bloomed over his cheeks.

"He can't help that he's the only man in an all women's gang," came the splintered voice of Clayton from the doorway. Immediately Benkate stood up from her seat and faced the lawman squarely.

"What to you want from us anyway? Why did you help us back there?" she demanded. The smell from the lawman's filthy attire wafted into the room, and Mingchao pinched her nose. Benkate must've been immune to it to be standing so close.

"You're after the same thing I am," he told them. "And you're with the Dawn Posse. I've been keepin' track of them for a few years now, just like the Order."

Benkate looked back at Rommie, but Rommie had fixed her gaze on the window. "We don't need your help," said Rommie, and her tone suggested there should be no argument about it.

The lawman pushed his way past Benkate and sat abruptly next to Rommie. Rommie turned, placing her hand over her nose and mouth because of the smell.

"Take a bath!" she squawked. Mingchao moved away from the scene and backed towards the window.

"If I can get the Posse's help, we can put the Order on the wrong side of the law," Clayton explained. "You're just the people I need."

"Haven't you noticed?" Rommie said from behind her hand. "It's the Posse that's on the wrong side of the law. People think we're murderers and wild vigilantes. I doubt you can convince your colleagues to take our side."

"People _think_ you're wild and dangerous," Clayton pointed out. "But I know it ain't true. The Order wants people to think that's what you are, and those people don't know the truth." He gave Rommie a stern glare. "You girls ain't alone in your mission, and I think you should quit acting like you are. The more allies you have, the better."

For the first time since joining the Posse, Rommie was beginning to have doubts. _No matter how many allies we have, the Order will always be bigger._

"I think Mr. Clayton's right, Rommie," Mingchao chimed in. Everyone turned to look at her. "When we went up against the Syndicate, I needed as many people I could possibly get to help me. I wouldn't have been able to do it without my friends! Mr. Clayton might be able to help us in a lot of big ways!"

"You should trust her judgment, Rommie," said Baskerville with a nod from where he lay. "The Syndicate is gone because of her determination to fight them."

Rommie stared at the others, bewildered. _I should trust the judgment of a mere child? I don't even know what this Syndicate was that they're talking about!_ She looked into Mingchao's eyes and saw the same sparkle she saw on the day the girl asked to help take down the Order. Baskerville was also giving her that same confident gaze. _If this Syndicate was anything like the Order…then maybe…_

She sighed. "Fine, then."

Mingchao smiled with glee.

"Works every time," Benkate said under her breath.

"But if you're going to travel with us, then please, _take a bath_ ," Rommie told the lawman.

"He'd probably kill the Order with just his stench," Mingchao said as she pinched her nose again.

Frowning at them, the lawman stood up to leave, but then turned toward them again. "I may not be able to stay with you much longer, but if we have to part ways then I'll be sure to keep track of your whereabouts." Before he closed the door to the car, he said, "We'll meet again, in Spokane Falls."

* * *

Mingchao was pulling on her boots the next afternoon when the train stopped to get water.

They had stayed the night in another town several miles from the one they encountered the assassin in, and then they left on the earliest train out. Rommie was in such a hurry that they hardly had time to eat, but they were already in pretty bad shape. Benkate was in a terrible mood because she accidentally left her new guns in the hotel back in Oregon, and she was stuck wearing that awful dress. She'd already spent too much money to afford any newer, more comfortable, clothes. Mingchao was also getting annoyed with her dress. She missed her old clothes, plus her outfit now didn't hold much animal essence, from what little she was able to gather in the previous town.

 _At least Mr. Priest is feeling better,_ she thought as she looked at his empty bed. She stayed with him through the last few nights to be sure he really was improving. He tended to fake it sometimes so she wouldn't worry.

Lacing up her boots, Mingchao thought she saw movement outside her window. Her head snapped up, but she saw no one outside. Maybe it was just a bird? She went back to her boots when the motion returned to her window. She almost shrieked when she saw the face of a beautiful woman smiling at her from outside. Her black curls framed her pleasant but scarred face, and her green eyes glittered knowingly.

"Vixen!" the girl said aloud, but then clamped a hand over her mouth. Vixen motioned to the door behind Mingchao. "Right! I'll go get Rommie!"

She left her sleeper car and dashed down to the next one, sliding the door open without knocking. Rommie was just strapping a gun on her leg under her dress when she looked up. "Vixen's here!" Mingchao whispered. "She wants to see you!"

Startled, Rommie quickly finished with the gun strap and headed for her window. She opened it and poked her head outside. She gasped when she saw Vixen trotting up on a horse.

"What are you doing here?" she asked anxiously. "Someone will see you!"

Without answering, Vixen glanced behind her at the water tower. Many different travelers were there, watering their horses and chatting. Among them were several women from the Posse.

Rommie looked to the Posse and back to Vixen. "We should've met in Spokane Falls. This is too risky!"

"We heard about what happened," said Vixen. "They're looking for you now. We also got this." She pulled out a scrap of paper and handed it to her friend.

When Rommie read it over, her eyes grew wide. Mingchao pushed up on her toes to try and see. "What's it say?"

Rommie stared at the letter in awe. "How did he find you? He's fast!"

Vixen smiled. "Mr. Clayton is more resourceful than you give him credit for. I believe he may be of good use to us."

"Or vice versa," Rommie mumbled as she gazed at the letter. "He got off the train yesterday, but I don't think he's on this one now. I'm assuming he'll be coming in behind us."

Vixen nodded. "Probably. How are the others?"

"Mr. Priest is doing better," Mingchao told them. "It's like he was never sick."

Vixen was surprised. "He was ill?"

"W-Well, nothing serious," the girl replied, smiling.

"That's good, then. I wouldn't want to drag around someone who was ill, especially into this mess." She looked at Rommie. "I'd like to speak with you outside."

* * *

"Where are we going?" Mingchao asked from behind Rommie on the horse. The girl had asked to come, and although Rommie had protested, Vixen had agreed and overridden Rommie's command.

"Just away from the train," Rommie said. "Vixen doesn't want anyone to hear us."

"But the train's leaving soon." Mingchao looked back worriedly. "We don't want to miss it."

"We won't," said Rommie. "This won't take long."

The desolate landscape had an openness that made Mingchao uneasy. There was a vast silence save for the warbling of a few meadowlarks, and the thin soil under the horse's hooves sounded like thunder in her ears.

While the other Posse members had stayed behind, it was just Rommie, Mingchao, and Vixen who crested over a sagebrush-covered hill and down the other side, out of view of the train. When they reached the bottom of the hill, Vixen alighted from her horse, and Rommie followed, leaving Mingchao in the saddle.

"What is it you need to tell me?" Rommie asked.

"I'm giving you this," Vixen said quietly, handing Rommie a small object wrapped in cloth.

Before she even touched it, Rommie knew what it was. "Why are you doing this? It's safer with you!"

"This half of the Firebrand is no longer safe with us," Vixen explained. "The Order has been trailing us, and we've encountered them a few times on our way here. They know we have it, but if you take it, they'll lose track it of."

"They _might_ lose track of it," said Rommie with heavy emphasis. "There's no guarantee they won't realize you gave it to me. Besides, we also have someone tracking us—"

"About that man," Vixen cut in, "I know you are familiar with him. You must, under no circumstances, get yourself captured by him. If he shows up again, kill him."

The two women heard an audible gasp come from Mingchao. She stared at them as if she had been slapped. "You can't do that! I know he's the bad guy, but that doesn't mean we should kill him!"

Rommie pointed her finger at the girl " _You_ won't kill him, but _I_ will. It's not your decision to make for me."

Mingchao returned a pointed finger. "Then I'll stop you!"

Scoffing, Rommie glared at the girl. "By doing what you're doing—by joining us against the Order, you're possibly sending hundreds of people to the gallows." When Mingchao didn't respond, she added, "If you feel so uncomfortable doing that, then you and your friends are free to leave at the next train stop. But be aware that you'll probably be running from the Olympus Order for quite some time."

Mingchao gripped the reins of the horse. _This is awful._ She never realized it before, what she was doing. What the Posse had been trying to do for years was bring the Order to justice, and usually that meant punishing the people responsible, whether in prison, or by execution.

_The Order kills people. Shouldn't they pay for that?_

_But it's wrong to kill people._

_But what about the people they killed?_

_If the Order is around, then people will die. If they're not—_

"Mingchao," said Vixen softly.

The girl looked up from staring at her hands around the leather reigns. "Huh?"

"Mingchao, it is noble."

"W-What?"

Vixen smiled. "It is noble that you feel the way you do."

The girl cocked her head. "What do you mean?"

"That you feel it isn't right for people to kill each other, no matter the cause. We need more people like you in the world."

Blushing, Mingchao gazed at her in stunned silence. Rommie bit her lip as if embarrassed that Vixen would side with a child.

"If there were more like you, I'm sure fewer people would have to die at the hands of others," Vixen concluded. "But please understand: what Rommie says is true. It may be that if we succeed in bringing down the Order, then many people involved with them may have to hang. And that decision is not up to us. Our only goal is to expose them and prevent them from obtaining the Firebrand. The end result is out of our hands."

Mingchao said nothing more. She still felt conflicted, but didn't think of any more to say. Perhaps sometime in the future she could come to her own conclusion.

" _Anyway_ ," Rommie said sharply, "there's something more I'd like to discuss with Vixen, Mingchao. You can go back to the train." She looked down at the bundle in her hands, and then tossed it to the girl. "Here, take this with you."

Mingchao caught it deftly and stared at it with wide eyes. "You sure?"

Rommie nodded. "Yeah. Hurry and take it back. I'll be behind you shortly."

Feeling important, Mingchao grinned widely and tugged on the reins of the horse, steering it back over the hill. _I can't believe she's entrusting it to me! And here I thought she didn't like me!_

As the horse plodded along, Mingchao dared to open the bundle and saw for the first time since finding it the gleaming white handle in all its glory. _I wonder what it does!_ she thought excitedly. She had been so focused on getting to Spokane Falls in one piece that she actually hadn't thought about the gun hilt in quite some time, though she did have to wonder if Vixen giving it to them had really been such a good idea. Now there were fewer people to protect it. _The Order wants this really bad. If we find the bullets before they do, all that's left is the other half of the gun!_ But when she really got to thinking about it, she knew it was easier said than done. They still didn't know exactly where the bullets were, or if this Elwood Belgrade person was a safe person to ask. What if he's with the Order, too?

Mingchao quickly wrapped up the gun hilt and kept it close to her as she steered the horse down the slope of the hill. She could see the train in sight. It was still sitting by the water tower, although it looked like the train employees were preparing to depart. She stared at it with worry, hoping Rommie would hurry up.

She was some twenty feet away from the base of the hill when a sudden noise startled her. The horse snorted and jumped lightly at the sharp pop that rattled the air. As she pulled the reigns to stop it, Mingchao patted the horse's neck to calm it, and then looked over her shoulder at the hill.

"Was that a…gunshot?" Her heart racing, she set the bundle between her legs and pulled out her Eto Gun. She grabbed a bottle of animal essence and sprinkled it over the gun's round head. She looked back at the hill. _Maybe Rommie's just playing around?_

Another shot echoed, and Mingchao roughly turned the horse and galloped back towards the hill. Right before she crested the hill, she stopped the horse with a skid and jumped down to crawl on her belly. Her finger on the trigger of the Eto Gun, she peeked over.

She could hear Rommie shouting something, and she sounded upset. She strained to see and began to tremble. Down on the ground was Vixen, clutching her side. Even from this distance Mingchao could see the glistening wetness of blood on Posse leader's dark cloak. Rommie was next to her, trying to help stem the bleeding. When the girl saw Rommie look up, she followed the woman's line of sight.

 _The man in black!_ Gaping, Mingchao saw him standing easily with one of his large silver guns still pointed at the two on the ground. Smoke rose from the polished barrel, and there didn't appear to be any expression on his face. He appeared unharmed from the bird bullet that was fired in the saloon.

Gripping the Eto Gun, Mingchao had planned to shoot at him again, giving Rommie time to drag Vixen away, but would it buy them enough time? Rommie would have to drag Vixen up the hill, and it would take too long. The horse, maybe? Could she ride it down the hill, shoot the guy, and ride Rommie and Vixen out?

 _But I have the Firebrand's hilt!_ She chewed her lip, knowing every second she was wasting trying to think, Vixen was down there bleeding to death. _If he catches us—or kills us—he'll have the second half of the Firebrand! Rommie trusted me to take it back to the train!_

_No! If I can get a direct hit with the Eto Gun, that guy'll be out for hours. My gun never misses its mark! That'll give us plenty of time to escape._

Mingchao gripped her gun again with a clammy hand and stood up. She could almost feel the scar on her hand burning with the spirit of the Eto Gun as she dashed down the hill.

"Rommie! Vixen!" she cried loudly, and the man in black snapped his glare in her direction. Mingchao expected him to turn his gun at her, but he didn't. Instead, he looked at Vixen again. Rommie was trying pull her friend up and limp away while he had been distracted. Ignoring Mingchao, the man pulled the trigger.

Mingchao stumbled at the bottom of the hill, her heroic rescue botched, but she managed to right herself on her feet and still whip up the Eto Gun with its aim set firmly on the man in black. What she saw within her sights made her mind go numb.

Almost in an agonizing slow motion, Mingchao watched as Vixen fell forward, a spray of blood coating the sandy ground in front of her. Rommie grappled with her to keep her upright, but Vixen fell like a ragdoll to the blood-soaked earth. Mingchao distinctly remembered seeing Vixen's eyes roll back.

Mingchao quaked. "N-N-No." The gun in her hand shook.

The next sound she heard she would never forget for the rest of her life. Rommie released such a wail of complete and utter torment that it seemed to echo forever across the desert wilderness. The sound rolled over Mingchao and seemed to stop her heart. The world came to a standstill in her mind as she saw Rommie throw herself over the body of Vixen, still screaming. The man in black just stood there, watching calmly. He had lowered his gun at his side.

"W-Why?" Mingchao choked. She felt the bile rising into her throat. "W-Why did you h-have to do t-that?"

Still trying to regain her sanity, she turned her eyes on the man in black. He didn't even pay her any mind as he watched Rommie grieve. He didn't care that Mingchao was aiming her gun at him, because he had already done what he came to do.

Mingchao's mind snapped back to reality when she saw him take a step forward. _He's going for Rommie!_ She couldn't bear the thought of Rommie being killed the same way Vixen was. Vixen's murder alone was enough to give her nightmares until the day she died. _No! I can't let him hurt her!_ She steadied the Eto Gun.

"STOP!" she shrieked. "Don't come any closer to Rommie! This time I won't miss! I'm gonna blow your sorry butt straight back to where it came from!"

The assassin hesitated, eyeing her gun warily. He was lucky enough to escape it last time, but by now he knew its power. He may not be so fortunate this time.

Rommie looked up at the sound of her voice. "M-Mingchao?" Tears streaked her face. "Mingchao, run away!"

"I told you I'm not running away when my friends are in danger!" the girl snapped back. "You would do the same for me!"

Rommie's jaw hung open at her words. "B-But this man…! Mingchao, you can't—"

"Yes I can! Just watch me!" Making sure her aim was true, Mingchao gave the man a purely malevolent glare. "See ya later, _sucker_!"

The last thing the man might've remembered seeing before being engulfed in blackness was a magnificent white tiger, its stripes dancing in kaleidoscopic radiance as its massive fangs closed in around his head.

* * *

Mingchao fell to her knees.

The Eto Gun dropped to the ground with a thud, its muzzle hissing from the tiger bullet. Her limbs could hardly function because they felt like gelatin, so she crawled as best she could towards Rommie and Vixen.

The black assassin lay comatose in a sandy crater, having been hit directly. But he was the least of Mingchao's concerns.

"R-Rommie," the girl managed to say. "Is she—Will she be—"

Rommie shook her head quickly, her eyes shut tightly to hold back more tears. She held Vixen's upper body in her arms, and there was no life in the woman's open eyes. They stared blankly into heaven.

"I told her…. I told her it was too risky." Shaking, Rommie looked over her shoulder at the unconscious black assassin. A fierce loathing crept into her eyes.

As Mingchao grasped onto Vixen's still-warm hand, Rommie stood up, letting Vixen's body lower to the ground. An enormous pool of blood fanned out around the body, getting Mingchao's dress wet with it.

 _This can't be happening,_ the girl thought as she held Vixen's hand. _She can't really be dead… Who will lead the Dawn Posse against the Order? She can't ever see the Order be brought to justice._ As this realization sunk in, tears filled her eyes and dripped onto the Vixen's arm. Cringing regretfully, Mingchao moved her trembling hand over the woman's face to close her vacant eyes. Vixen's final words to her echoed in her memories: _"If there were more like you, I'm sure fewer people would have to die at the hands of others."_

She was still thinking of these words when she looked up at Rommie. Rommie was aiming her gun at the black assassin, and the trembling glitter from its barrel gave away her unbalanced state of mind.

"Rommie," Mingchao called weakly. "Please… Please don't. No more killing. Please." Letting go of Vixen's hand, she stood up on unsteady legs. "He's not going to bother us again. Let's just go back to the train. Please! I left the Firebrand on the hill…" She fell to her knees again. "We have to get away as soon as possible. The train will leave…"

Mingchao reached out to grab onto Rommie's dress, but before she could, the woman collapsed. Surprised, Mingchao scuttled over on her hands and knees and turned Rommie over. "You're hurt!"

"He just grazed me."

"That's not just a graze, Rommie! You're bleeding!"

Mingchao helped her sit up to examine the wound. It wasn't life-threatening, but without treatment it could fester.

With much coaxing, Mingchao got Rommie to stand up and walk toward the hill where she dragged her feet all the way to the top to the waiting horse. Luckily it hadn't been frightened away by the light of the Eto Gun.

Rommie was distressed at leaving Vixen's body to the coyotes, but Mingchao tried to assure her that the Posse would take care of it.

Trying to block out the memory of Vixen's bloody demise, Mingchao rode in front of Rommie back to the train. Rommie gripped the saddle and Mingchao's clothes to hang on, but a few times Mingchao thought she would fall off. _Please hang on, Rommie!_ She stared ahead of her with determination. _We can do this!_

When they reached the water tower and the train, the Posse was there waiting for them. The look on their faces betrayed their confusion at the absence of their leader.


	19. Unfortunate Disguises

"Get your newspapers here!"

The boy held up a fresh paper from his pile, displaying it to the passing pedestrians on the street corner. A man stopped, handed him some coins, and picked up a copy for himself before walking away. The boy watched him curiously, and then gazed down the other end of the street expectantly.

He was silent for a few more moments, letting a couple more potential customers pass him by, and then he returned to his duty. "Get your fresh papers here; only a nickel!"

He went at it for another five minutes before glancing down the street again. His large eyes were filled with a mixture of anxiety and frustration as they peered out from under his hat.

Another customer handed him a coin and took a paper. "Thank you, sir," he said, but the man who had bought the paper lifted an eyebrow.

"That's a strange boy," he whispered as he walked away.

" _You're_ the weirdo," the boy replied sullenly, but he knew why some people gave him that look. That's because he was really a girl. Kneeling down to pick up another paper to display, she mumbled, "Why did _I_ have to be the boy?"

Holding two papers now, Mingchao lifted them high and shouted her line to attract the customers. _I'm going to have to sell twice as much today. If I don't, we won't be able to pay the rent._ She sighed and looked down the street again. _Where is he?_

Three weeks had passed since Mingchao, Rommie, Baskerville, and Benkate made it to Spokane Falls. It hadn't been easy trying to settle in, especially for Rommie. She was still in shock after losing Vixen, and she was injured on top of that. Luckily the Posse's doctor had been present and was able to treat her..

The Posse had returned to the scene of the murder to take care of Vixen body, as upset at they were. Mingchao had been worried that they'd find the black assassin still there, but when they returned they reported that he was missing. He couldn't have gone far, not after he was hit with a tiger bullet, but the fact was he was not there anymore.

Right then and there, the Posse elected that Rommie was their new leader. It seemed only natural since Rommie was so close to Vixen. In fact, it was explained that Rommie was one of the first recruits when the Dawn Posse was formed five years ago. She used the money from her Hollywood fame to fund the group until it was almost gone. Now she was a mere pauper.

The Posse parted ways with the four, vowing to meet again. With Fortune—the Posse doctor—now second-in-command, the group rode off into the horizon with the wrapped remains of Vixen strapped to the back of a horse. Mingchao couldn't help but wonder where the Posse intended to bury their dead leader. Did she have no family they could return the body to?

Rommie was still affected by the incident. Her wound healed well enough, but her heart hadn't. She spoke of Vixen often, having seen her like an older sister. She then revealed that Vixen's real name was Windlon Snow. Mingchao made sure she would never forget that name.

After their arrival in the small city, however, Rommie's demeanor changed and she took command once again. The first thing they did was find a place to live on what little money they had left, and after that they set off to find work, but not before changing their appearances again—well, except for Benkate. She absolutely refused to wear a dress again, so she returned to wearing her cutoff shorts, top, and a pair of tall boots. Rommie wore a simple dress, and she assigned Mingchao to dress as a boy to be less conspicuous. Mingchao didn't have a clue why. Baskerville stayed the same, except for one vital difference: his hair had to be cut short.

Believing Rommie had completely lost her mind, Baskerville was forced into a chair by Benkate and Mingchao while Rommie wielded a wicked pair of giant scissors. Mingchao remembered gazing up at her friend with wide, tear-filled eyes. "You'll grow your beautiful hair back, Mr. Priest! Don't worry, it's for your own good!"

Benkate laughed at the hilarity of it all. "Yeah, don't worry, Baskey! You'll still be plenty handsome!"

Baskerville had glared at them warily. "Rommie, I hope you're a good barber."

"Barber, what?" Rommie had asked innocently as she approached him from behind. A sly grin spread across her face as she stared at his fine blond hair. She grabbed a handful and snipped away.

Benkate squealed with glee. "I'll never forget this for as long as I live!"

"Why do you always take such pleasure in my torment?" Baskerville had asked, indignant.

Mingchao smiled. "Because that's how she tells people that she likes them."

Baskerville then gaped at her. To him, Mingchao was just as guilty.

Mingchao couldn't contain the giggle that came to her when she remembered it all. Baskerville had certainly been glum afterwards, but she and Benkate tried to boost his spirits by complimenting him. After a while, he seemed to get over it.

Mingchao lifted a hand to the sky to see that the hot sun was already moving into the western horizon. _My shift is almost over, but where is he? He was supposed to be here a long time ago!_

"Get your papers here," she said blandly. She raised one of the papers to say it again when a hand snatched it from her. "Huh?"

Blinking into the sunlight, she saw a tall man smile kindly down at her, holding the paper under one arm. "You're working hard today," he said. He was a middle-aged fellow with graying hair, and he was dressed luxuriously in expensive clothes and wore a heavy black overcoat, even in the heat of the late afternoon. A glint of light shone off a gold chain that led into the chest pocket of his vest.

Reaching into one of his pockets, he flipped a coin in her direction, and she caught it with surprise. When she looked from the coin to the man, he tossed her a second coin, this time a quarter. "And here's another for all your hard work."

Mingchao's eyes went wide when she ogled the coins in her hand. _This guy must be really rich!_ Well, thirty cents did seem like a lot to her at the moment.

"Thank you—" She stopped when she noticed the man was gone, but moved toward the street to see him getting into a black carriage that was being pulled by two magnificent horses. The driver then cracked the whip and sped off down the wide, dusty road that had been paved between several large brick buildings.

Mingchao's breath caught in her throat when she realized it. _Was that…who I think it was?_

* * *

"So what's your haul today, Mingchao?" Benkate asked from the table. She slapped down a small bag of coins and opened the pouch to pour them out.

Mingchao pulled out her day's pay. "Not as much as I was hoping, but it was better than yesterday." Then she pulled the hat off her head, letting her black hair fall around her shoulders. "I hate wearing this thing!"

"Looks like we're doing pretty well. If Baskerville and Rommie come back with what they usually get, then we may be set for tomorrow as well."

"That much?" Mingchao wondered aloud. "Well, the only reason I made so much was because this rich guy gave me a tip."

Benkate eyed her. "A rich guy? You don't see a lot of them around here. This town's kind of a giant gutter."

"Like your mind?" said Mingchao with a devious grin.

"Like your relationship with Baskerville!" Benkate shot back, almost with enthusiasm.

"Your whole life's a gutter, Benkate!"

"Hey! Don't judge me!

They stopped arguing when the door opened. Baskerville walked in with a sigh as he took off his hat. He was covered with dust, and he mumbled something they didn't catch.

Mingchao looked at him with concern. "What happened this time, Mr. Priest? Did the horse almost run you over again? And why didn't you meet me today like you said you would? I waited around for forever!"

Benkate grinned. "Maybe it fell in love with him this time? If I were a horse, I would!"

"You _are_ a horse," Baskerville wanted to say, but instead he said, "I'm sorry, Mingchao. I got held up with the horses, as you can see."

Mingchao was glad to see that her friends seemed to be themselves again, but she could see that Baskerville wanted to pull his hair out as each day passed by. A man could hardly get any privacy living with three women. At times he seemed almost glad to go to work, but sometimes his job didn't make it much easier. He had taken a job as a coach driver to a somewhat wealthy individual, and this person was very picky over how her horses were handled.

"Is Rommie back yet?" he asked as he dusted himself off.

Benkate began sorting through her money. "Nope." She lifted a paper bill and grimaced. "Why? You got something you need to tell her?"

Baskerville shook his head. "Just wondering. All day long I see them walking around on the streets. I don't like when we're apart like this."

Benkate and Mingchao looked at him intently. When he said "them," they knew what he meant. The presence of the Olympus Order was very strong in this town, and once they located the Mauglin Building—the building where the Order was stockpiling weapons—they became especially wary, knowing how close they were.

Benkate growled. "When is Rommie gonna tell us to make a move? The Posse's here, so why don't we just quit lollygagging and do something already? My guns are probably right under our noses! I can't stand it, knowing they're right there!"

_Guns…_ Mingchao absentmindedly sorted her money in front of her. Her memory went back to the day Vixen was shot, and the black assassin with the silver guns. _At least we haven't run into_ him _again. Maybe he got scared and won't come back?_ She hoped so. She didn't want to see Rommie kill someone.

"If you're so concerned about it," began Baskerville, "then maybe we should go ask her right now."

Benkate's eyebrows shot up. "Now? She's working, isn't she?"

"It's better than waiting until she gets back. Come on, Mingchao. Put your hat back on."

Mingchao scowled. "Uuuugh."

* * *

"Oh, Frederick! I can't bear it any longer!" said the woman in the gaudy green dress. "We must be together!" She brought up her arm to her face and wept dramatically.

The man standing beside her grasped her shoulders. He wore a suit of armor—or what was _supposed_ to be a suit of armor. "But, Elizabeth, our being together could start a war! We wouldn't want that for our people, would we?"

"I suppose you're right, Frederick, but…!"

"But what, my love?"

"I can't live without you!"

"Oh, Elizabeth!"

"Oh, Frederick!"

"Oh, gag me," Benkate grumbled from the back of the audience. She and the other two were stuck along the back wall, without seats. It was a full house tonight.

The darkness of the room intensified the glow from the stage, illuminating the two actors. A spotlight focused on the woman in green. Her hair hung down her back and over her shoulders in gorgeous black locks. The man behind her "faded" by stepping into the darkness and out of the light.

"What must I do? I know that I must be true to my heart, but I also know I have a duty to my people! Oh, how torn I am over this!" She collapsed to the floor in feigned anguish, and thrust her hands out in front of her. "Has the world always been so cruel and complicated?"

Mingchao leaned over to Baskerville. "Do we have to watch this?"

"Why not? We don't get to do this very often," her friend replied.

"Because it's awful, that's why," whispered Benkate.

Baskerville elbowed her. "Rommie would throw a fit if she heard you say that." "That's her up there, you know."

"I know that. I'd know her screeching voice from a mile away." Benkate crossed her arms and glared up at the stage. "I thought Mingchao told me she was a star in Hollywood at one time? She must be stooping pretty low to be doing this garbage."

"She doesn't have a choice," said Baskerville. "We needed money."

They turned their attention back to the stage when they heard a stunning, lilting tune echo over the audience. Benkate's hands dropped to her sides as she gawked at the actress.

Rommie sang a melody from her place on the platform that left every man in the auditorium blushing, and even some envious women. Her song was accompanied by an elegant dance that was specially choreographed by her for this play.

Benakte gaped. "Geeeeez. Hey, Mingchao, she's pretty good, huh?" She smirked mischievously over at the girl on the other side of Baskerville, but found that Mingchao, too, was transfixed by Rommie's performance. Her face flushed red with admiration.

Benkate sighed. "Oh, come on. Give me a break!" She looked at Baskerville to say something, but was taken aback to see the same expression on his face. _I shoulda figured you'd do this, you fool of a man! Am I the only one here who's not impressed?_

Looking around at the other audience members, Benkate sought out a face—any face—that would prove her wrong. When she couldn't read the backs of anyone's heads in front of her, she turned and looked up at the balcony directly behind her. _Not that person, or that person, or that person... It's like they're all in love! She's not even that pretty!_

Benkate scanned the walls of the auditorium where balconies for the wealthy were draped with fabrics and gold trim. She drummed her fingers over her arm as she crossed them again, and peered into each and every single face there. Most of the private boxes had at least four people seated in them, but there was one in particular that caught her eye. It was a box with a single man seated within.

_Odd. I thought they said this place was packed? Yet this guy is in there all by himself._ _Doesn't seem fair that there's more seats right there when we have to stand against the wall!_ Straining to see in the dim hall, Benkate couldn't tell if he was young or old, but one thing was sure: she could see a gold chain flickering in the light from the stage. She made a mental note of this.

Before she realized it, Rommie had ended her song and the crowd erupted in applause. The curtain drew closed and the dozens of lanterns in the hall were relit so the audience could find their way out.

Benkate blinked. "What? It's over?"

"It's only the first half," Mingchao told her. "The rest is tomorrow night. I can't wait! She was soooooo amazing, wasn't she?" She clapped her hands gleefully, her eyes sparkling. "I want to sing like her!"

"Blech! Come on, let's try and get to her room before it gets too crowded." Benkate shoved Baskerville to break him free of his reverie and get him moving in the right direction.

* * *

Rommie removed the wig and set it on the large vanity in front of her, then took a newly wet washcloth and began wiping the makeup off her face. After she had scrubbed every last trace, she tossed the rag into the water basin. Two oil lamps lit up the small room and allowed her to see her face in the tarnished mirror.

_I never thought I'd be doing this again,_ she thought sadly. _It brings back so many bad memories, especially of when I lost him. I hope I don't have to do this for much longer..._

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at her dressing room door. When she opened it, she was irked to find the other three. "What are you doing here? I thought I told you we should never meet each other like this!"

Baskerville opened his mouth to speak, but Benkate pushed him aside. "Listen you, we've waited long enough! When are we gonna make our move?"

"I told you, the time isn't right," said Rommie sternly. "We can't do a thing until we find the bullets. We're not going to infiltrate the Mauglin Building until we have them. I'm sorry, but your guns are going to have to wait."

"Then what about this Elwood Belgrade guy?" Benkate pressed. "Why haven't we tried to find him yet? He's in this town, isn't he?"

"He is, but…"

"But nothing! You've been stalling!"

"Girls!" Baskerville said sharply. He grasped Mingchao's arm and pushed Benkate from behind, guiding them into the dressing room and then closing the door.

Once they were inside, Rommie sighed. "Listen, I know this is frustrating, but the rest of the Posse has been making the plans. They see no other way around it. We have to find the bullets first, and we can't approach this Belgrade fellow because we don't know if he's safe yet, but on the bright side we haven't found any trace of him being associated with the Order…yet."

"Have you heard from Clayton at all?" asked Baskerville.

Rommie shook her head. "Not since he left us in Oregon. I don't know what his deal is."

"Maybe that assassin went after him?" said Benkate

At the mention of the man in black, Rommie hesitated, and then stuttered. "B-Before Vixen was…s-shot, she began telling me of a plan she had come up with herself, but…he got to her first." She turned and went to her vanity again and began rinsing the washcloth. "So we have to start from scratch."

An uneasy silence followed, but the Mingchao piped up. "Well, I don't think we need to worry about that guy anymore. I got him pretty good with the Eto Gun! He probably ran away with his tail between his legs!"

Rommie smiled at the girl's optimism. _Thank you, Mingchao. You saved my life that day._ She looked to the others. "Listen, if it makes you feel any better, the rest of the Posse is planning a meeting in a few days. We can talk about this further then. I'm sure by now they've—"

Benkate crossed her arms. "Aren't you the leader now, though? Why are you making them do all the work?"

"Because I'm busy making sure _you_ don't get yourself killed." _I haven't quite settled into this role yet. Fortune is better at this than I am, so why did they decide to make me the leader?_ "Just please wait until then. I'll be home later."

With that, Rommie ushered them outside her dressing room and shut the door briskly. Heaving a sigh, she went about changing her clothes.

* * *

"Benkate, you should be more patient!" Mingchao fussed. She was setting up her bed for the night when she glared over at her. "Don't push Rommie to do something she's not ready to do yet!"

"Well, she's taking forever!" Benkate said angrily. "If I had known it'd take this long, I'd have gone off by myself to get my guns back."

As they settled into their beds, Mingchao stared up at the ceiling. Her voice was hushed. "But she was so good today, wasn't she?"

Benkate turned over, her back facing the girl on the other side of the small room. "I guess."

"I want to sing like that."

"You can't, remember?"

"Well, then maybe I can learn to dance!"

"Whatever. Make Rommie teach you or something."

Mingchao turned her head to look at Benkate. "Do you think she would?"

"I don't know. She seems to have warmed up to you lately, but she probably doesn't have the time." Benkate pulled the sheets around her neck. "Now go to sleep. We have a lot of work to do tomorrow."


	20. Opportunity Knocking

In the late afternoon of the following day, Mingchao lifted the last unsold pile of newspapers onto a cart and watched the driver take it back down the street toward the newspaper press. Before he had left, though, he gave her the day's pay for her work. She gazed into the pouch, noticing it was slightly less than yesterday. She wished that rich guy had come along and given her another quarter or two, but she didn't see him again that day. She wondered if maybe he only came into town every once in a great while. Where did he live?

Stuffing a few loose hairs into her cap, Mingchao turned to go back home when a figure jumped into her view. Before she realized it, the hand where she held the money bag was empty.

Her eyes bugged out at this sudden mystery. "Huh?" When she looked up again, she saw a man dashing away from her, her money bag in his hand. "Hey!"

She took off after him, dodging posts and people, and leapt over a large puddle of water. _No way am I letting someone steal from me!_ It crossed her mind to pull out the Eto Gun, but then she remembered she'd left it at home! Rommie had instructed her not to carry it in plain sight, because after using it against the black assassin twice already, it was likely that the Order knew of it. It would give her away. _Dang it! Sometimes Rommie makes things so much harder!_

She skidded around a corner when she saw the thief head that way, and then proceeded to chase him up a street that sloped up a hill. "Come back here! I'll make you sorry for this!"

The thief, dressed in grungy clothes, looked over his shoulder and grinned at her as if she were some stupid little child.

Mingchao's hat flew off, but she didn't notice it, and her hair came down in a wave. It was starting to get into her eyes when she spotted the man dash around another corner. It appeared he had run down an alley.

She slid to a stop at the alley's entrance, breathing hard. She leaned forward with her hands on her knees as she looked down the empty alley in defeat. _My money…_ Everyone was going to be so disappointed. They were barely making enough just to get by.

Just when she was about to turn away and trudge back down the street, she saw motion out of the corner of her eye.

Apparently believing she was gone, the thief stepped out into view down the alley and opened the money bag. He smiled in victory.

Without a word, Mingchao bolted toward him, yelling. She was so enraged by what had happened that she didn't stop to realize that he really was that much larger than her. As she got close, she jumped to hit him the face, her hand balled into a fist.

In one quick movement, the man reached out, grabbed her by the collar, and thrust her into some empty barrels along the side of one of the buildings. They tumbled over and rolled as she hit them, and a cloud of dust shot up.

Laughing all the while, the thief ran off with his loot.

* * *

Mingchao moaned as she awoke. "Owwww." Her hand slowly went to the side of her head. "What happened?"

The pain kept her from recalling what had happened exactly. All she remembered was jumping toward the thief, but after that… "Did I…get my money back?"

Rubbing the side of her head, Mingchao opened her eyes. She wasn't expecting to see the ceiling of a room. _I thought I was in the alley?_

She sat up suddenly, giving the room a quick look around. She definitely wasn't back at home. This room was entirely different from what she knew. It was larger and plusher. Heavily embroidered curtains hung from the large-paned windows, filtering in the sunlight through their opening. The floor was carpeted, something she didn't think she had ever seen before. She could see a chair in the corner with large scarlet cushions, and could imagine herself sinking into it if she sat on it. Near it was a large roll top desk made from a wood whose deep, rich hue had been polished to perfection. When Mingchao looked up, the engraved molding around the top edge of the room was painted gold.

She looked down in awe at the huge bed she was laying in. She'd never felt a bed so comfortable, and pillows so soft. The largest of the blankets had been pushed back to the foot of the bed because it was summer, and the thinner sheets had been pulled up around her. They were made from cotton, but of a very high thread count. _This place is amazing. Where am I, and how did I get here?_

Pushing the covers back, Mingchao noticed she was still wearing her clothes. She felt guilty for being so dirty in such a beautiful, clean place. She slid out of the bed and found her boots sitting nearby. Pulling them on quickly, she glanced around to listen for any sounds. _I don't know who brought me here, but I shouldn't stay._ Baskerville had taught her how to wizen up a little about people she didn't know, although she still tended to give people her unconditional trust from time to time. Her friend only wanted her to be able to detect whether or not someone was really trustworthy. It didn't necessarily mean she couldn't be friendly with them.

When she stood up after lacing up her boots, her head began spinning. A terrible ache throbbed on the side of her head. Touching it, Mingchao could feel the lump. "Youch. I must've really hit my head," she said. _It's no big deal. It'll be better in a couple of days, but…I didn't get my money back from that thief!_ She felt her pockets and didn't find the bag. _Rommie might get angry about this._

She warily headed for the door and grasped its ornate knob, turning it carefully. When the door pulled open, she peeked out. From where she was she could see another window beside her and what looked like the railing at the top of a staircase in front of her. She couldn't hear any noise. All was silent.

The door opened fully, and she tiptoed out onto a wooden floor. Seeing the stairs, she knew she was on a higher level of a house. Maybe the front door is just down the stairs? Hoping this was true she looked both ways and made her way to the staircase. She cringed when she heard the wooden boards under her feet creak, and took the first few steps down.

She stopped to listen several times before she finally made it to the bottom, but much to her disappointment there was no door leading outside. Rather, she stood facing a massive painting of some old matriarch from long ago. She found it a little creepy.

Not knowing where to turn next, Mingchao took a left and headed into a large open room where there was a big wooden table lined with chairs. She quietly made her way across and passed a window. Then she turned back to the window, considering maybe escaping through that, but there didn't appear to be a way to open it.

She left the room and entered another smaller room, but in this room she stopped suddenly and stared in wonder. An immense glass case lined three entire walls, and it filled each wall from top to bottom. Her jaw fell open. She could see guns from every era placed behind the glass in a chronological order, and there were even some weapons that weren't guns, like swords and knives, and then there were axes and other strangely shaped weapons she never knew existed.

"Oh, my," said a feminine voice from behind her.

Startled, Mingchao whirled around and her eyes grew wide. "I-I was just trying to—I was—"

"I'm glad to see you're feeling better," said the woman. She was elderly and wore a maid's uniform. "Mr. Belgrade was worried."

Mingchao gasped. "Mr. Belgrade? Did _he_ bring me here?"

"He did. He found you in that alley after seeing you run after a robber. He was afraid for your safety, and was very upset to find you unconscious." The woman smiled kindly. "He was also surprised to find that you were actually a girl."

Mingchao's hands went to her head and realized her cap was gone. _Oh, no!_ "Uh, I can explain that."

"No need to worry. Mr. Belgrade will be happy to see you are well. He was considering calling a doctor."

"Well, actually, I have to go," Mingchao said quickly. "My friends might be worried about me, so…"

"Oh? But you've been injured, so you shouldn't be out and about just yet. Here, let me go fetch Mr. Belgrade." The maid hurried off in the direction of the room with the large table.

Before Mingchao could protest, the woman was gone. Chewing on her lip, she looked back at the collection of weapons. She put her hands on her hips and thought hard. _Maybe I can somehow see if he has the Firebrand's bullets? I can save the Posse a lot of trouble if I can do it now._

When the maid returned, she said, "Mr. Belgrade will see you now. He's in his study."

Following the maid, Mingchao stared wide-eyed at everything she passed. Expensive vases, highly-acclaimed works of art, and classical statues seemed to be placed everywhere she looked. Greek, Roman, Dutch, American, as well as Chinese, Japanese, Arabian, and African influences were everywhere. It was like the man couldn't decide which theme to stick with. She was a little bothered by the several stuffed heads of tigers, zebras, and other exotic animals, though. They glared down at her with those menacing, artificial eyes; their mouths open in a grimace that suggested how they died.

As the maid approached a closed door at the end of hall, she knocked. "Mr. Belgrade, she's here."

A man inside bade them to enter, and the maid carefully opened the door to let Mingchao move past her. The girl gasped at who sat in the chair of an enormous desk. It was the man who had given her the quarter yesterday, the one with the gold chain in his pocket. _He's Elwood Belgrade?_

He gestured calmly to a chair in front of the desk. "Come, sit down. I was just getting a little work done."

Hesitantly, Mingchao came forward and took the chair. She saw that the room was decorated in the same manner as the rest of the house. A snarling bear's head was mounted on a plaque directly on the wall above the man. She stared at it with apprehension.

"How are you feeling?" the man asked, and Mingchao jumped slightly.

"U-Um, well." She looked intently at his clothes and any nearby belongings to see if perhaps she could spot the purple lion symbol she had seen on Armand Moreau back in Hollywood, but she didn't. "Thank you for helping me, but you didn't need to…"

"Oh, but it was my duty to help. I remembered you from yesterday, and thought I would try to assist you."

Mingchao frowned. _A nice looking man like him trying to stop a thief?_ "So…Mr. Belgrade, was that your gun collection back in that room?"

"It is," he smiled, but added, "but you don't need to be so formal with me. You may call me Elwood. Formal titles get so stuffy after a while."

Mingchao gave him a confused look. _He's so rich you'd think he'd want everyone to call him "Mister."_ "Do you get guns from all over the world?"

"I do. I've been collecting them for many years. I especially enjoy older relics from Europe. Are you sure you're feeling all right? You had quite a knot on your head. I believe you may have struck the side of your head on a wall."

Mingchao grinned. "Oh, it's nothing! I've had worse! Hey, I have a friend who's really into collecting guns, too. She likes rare and exotic ones. She has this one that's shaped like a cat!"

"That's very interesting." Elwood leaned forward. "I'd like to meet your friend someday; sounds like we have a lot in common."

Mingchao laughed. She couldn't imagine a swaggering pistoleer like Benkate in a gorgeous house like this. She'd probably break something! Elwood was such a refined gentlemen that their styles would definitely clash.

"She had one-hundred rare guns, and can you believe this: They were all stolen from her!" Mingchao giggled, forgetting her nervousness.

Elwood was shocked. "Stolen? That's awful. I hope she gets them back."

Mingchao nodded. "She's trying to. But it's easier said than done, because she thinks the Olympus Order took them—" She clamped a hand over her mouth. _Stupid!_

A very serious look came over Elwood's face, and he leaned back in his chair. "That _would_ be easier said than done. I don't blame her. She ought to be careful."

"Why is that?" Mingchao ventured. She tried to sound innocently ignorant.

"Not many people would say this, but the Olympus Order is a very dangerous group. They do… _things_ that are not lawful. They've tried to get me to join them, but they just want me for my money."

"Oh…" Mingchao paused as she considered him. _He's not with them, and he's probably against them, too!_ "Well, I've heard some pretty bad rumors about them, too, liiiiiiike they've got lots of guns." She waited anxiously for his response.

There was a brief silence before Elwood answered. "I've also heard this, and that they also have some enemies." He paused. "What is your name?"

"Mingchao," the girl answered, but then mentally kicked herself for using her real name. Baskerville would certainly disapprove. But what's the harm, anyway? Elwood wasn't with the Order, and he didn't seem to like them, either. Wouldn't that put her and him on the same side?

"Mingchao. Are you from this area?"

"No, my friends and I came from Los Angeles."

"From all the way down there? For what reason?"

"Uhhh…" Mingchao struggled for an answer, but had a hard time coming up with something. _Say something!_ "For work!"

"Are your parents with you?"

"N-No, just my friends. We live together. One works as a stagecoach driver, the other is a saloon bouncer, and my other friend works as an actress."

Elwood gave her a puzzled look. "An actress?"

"Yeah! She has this beautiful voice and can dance really well!"

Elwood sat back in his chair again. "I think I know which woman you speak of."

"Really?" Mingchao squeaked nervously.

"Yes. There was a play just last night with an actress like that. At that time, I thought it was rather unusual to see an actress of such talent here in the northwestern frontier. I've been here many years and haven't seen anyone like her."

Mingchao nodded smugly. "She's pretty amazing. One day I want to be like her. I bet she'll teach me how to dance, too."

"Oh? Is she one of your three friends?" A strange glimmer entered the millionaire's eyes.

Mingchao realized she'd done it again. She'd said too much. "Uh…yeah."

"I'd love to meet her," said Elwood.

Mingchao's eyes went wide. _CHANCE! I can get Rommie to meet with Elwood and she can find out if he has the bullets!_ She grinned. "I think I can arrange that."

* * *

"Mingchao, where have you been?" Baskerville asked her as she came through the door of their apartment. "I've been all over town looking for you! I was starting to think maybe the Order got you."

"Nope," the girl replied with a smirk. She held her chin up and looked over at Rommie who was leaning against the kitchen wall gloomily. Apparently she had been just as worried. Benkate was nowhere to be found.

Mingchao bounded over to the table and pulled out a chair. Then she looked at Rommie again. "Rommie, you have a date with a man named Elwood Belgrade."

Rommie's eyebrows came together. "What? What you talking about? This is no time to be making jokes, Mingchao! We've been worried sick!"

Mingchao pouted. "I'm not making jokes. I'm telling the truth. I got a bump on the head today, and Elwood took care of me. We talked about the play last night, and I said I knew you. Now he wants to meet you tomorrow."

Rommie stood frozen against the wall, stunned. She looked off into space, realizing that a major door of opportunity had just opened very wide.


	21. Tycoon

"How long are they gonna take?" asked Benkate. "My butt's falling asleep sitting here."

Baskerville kept his voice low as he peered over the bushes. "They should be here any minute."

They had been waiting outside behind some bushes for about an hour. Mingchao had informed them of where Elwood lived, and Rommie had ordered that the other two wait outside for them to arrive in a carriage.

Benkate whistled. "I can't believe that guy lives in a house like this! I've never seen anybody so rich! It's no surprise that he owned that theatre box." When Mingchao had described the man to her the night before, Benkate knew that the man she saw was Elwood Belgrade.

The home was certainly a mansion. It had to have at least ten rooms or more, and the grounds were extensive and meticulously kept. A sprawling garden could be seen even from where they were crouched.

Benkate glanced at Baskerville. "You think this guy lives here all by himself?"

"Mingchao said she didn't see anyone else there except the maid. Either he is alone, or any family he might have is away." Baskerville squinted into the afternoon sunlight as a black carriage clattered up the earthen driveway. He could hear the horses snort and stamp their hooves when they were halted.

The driver of the carriage descended and opened the doors. Elwood exited first, and then he took the hand of Rommie and then Mingchao. Rommie wore a very expensive and stylish dress of a violet hue.

Benkate fumed. "I can't believe her. Here we were, struggling to make ends meet, and then she goes and buys that dress! She was lying when she told us how much money she was making!"

"She said she was putting it aside in case of an emergency," Baskerville explained as he watched the three depart from the carriage.

"Buying a dress is _not_ an emergency!"

"Shh!"

* * *

"I'm very fortunate to have been able to make your acquaintance, Miss Linehart," Elwood said politely from the other end of the table.

The three of them sat outside on a patio that looked into the most magnificent entrance to the garden. Above them fluttered a white canopy that shielded them from the hot sun.

Rommie smiled back at the millionaire. "Thank you very much for inviting us here today. Please excuse me, but I'm not exactly a master of etiquette." She laughed nervously.

Mingchao rolled her eyes. She was growing tired of all the formalities. At this rate, it'll take a hundred years to find out if Elwood has the bullets or not.

Elwood chuckled. "That's quite all right. It's always refreshing to meet a free spirit who isn't so restricted by tradition and procedure."

They delved into a conversation about Rommie's start in Hollywood. Mingchao listened closely to the story about how it was discovered that Rommie, a little girl, could sing, and that she was scouted during an audition for a play. Then Rommie went on to describe her success, and how directors fought over trying to get her to act in their productions. Yet instead of telling Elwood about eventually quitting her career over the death of her friend, Rommie said she wanted to get out of the big city and head to more remote places where she might inspire others.

Elwood nodded. "That's all quite fascinating. You've come a long way for one so young."

"Yes, thank you. What about yourself? I've heard that you're a self-made man," said Rommie.

"Indeed. I came here from Virginia. I used to grow tobacco, but when they began building the railways out west, a friend of mine got me into the business. I came to Spokane Falls because business was booming. The railroading industry tends to flourish in areas where there is much mining and timber. I also have an interest in the cattle drives."

"And what about your gun collection? That's not something you see every day. Is that an interest of yours as well?" Rommie waved her feathered fan in front of her face and eyed him steadily.

Mingchao was beginning to sense a change in the atmosphere. The wooden chair under her was beginning to feel hard and uncomfortable.

"Oh, yes, that. Well, ever since I was a boy I've enjoyed collecting them. I was always interested in knowing all the different kinds and how they worked. Each gun has its own history, and seemingly its own personality. Every so often, when I have time, I like to go to an open area to practice with them."

"The ones in the case?" Mingchao cut in.

"Some of them, but a few are so old that it wouldn't be wise to do so." Elwood winked.

"And did you shoot all those animals with one of those guns?" the girl asked eagerly.

Elwood laughed, charmed at Mingchao's enthusiasm. "Yes, actually, I have a very special rifle for that."

Rommie brought up her fan to cover half her face. "Do you collect other items, like, perhaps…bullets?"

Elwood took up a teacup to take a sip, and brought it back down before he answered. "Actually, I don't."

An expression of disappointment crossed the girls' faces for a moment.

"However, I do have something unusual that I purchased while I was still in Virginia. A shop owner convinced me that some bullets he was selling were unique, although I was suspicious. I knew him to be a shady character, and heard rumors that he often sold stolen goods, but when he showed me a manuscript concerning the construction of the bullets, I was amazed."

Mingchao leaned forward. "What was so amazing about them?"

"They were advanced for their time. From how it looked in the manuscript, these bullets were constructed using materials similar to dynamite, although its effects would be far more devastating."

"Do you still have them?" Rommie asked, a hint of seriousness in her voice.

"I do," replied Elwood. "Would you like to see them?"

Rommie and Mingchao exchanged looks.

* * *

The bullets weren't in the glass case as Mingchao had expected. Instead, Elwood kept them in one of the many locked drawers beneath the case itself. She hadn't noticed those before, probably because they were made to look like the ordinary wooden base that held up the cases.

Elwood retrieved a gold key from his desk and returned to the room of guns. Rommie and Mingchao waited behind him as he slid the key into the hole and opened the drawer. It had to have been at least three feet long.

Mingchao had been anticipating seeing the bullets in a typical box, but what Elwood pulled out surprised her. The box he took from the drawer was plain, but it was long and painted with black lacquer, though it appeared to be very old. He held the box in front of them and opened its ancient lid. The silvery bullets were nestled apart from each other in their own separate nooks that were layered with what looked like silk. Mingchao counted around twenty bullets, not very many.

She gazed upon them in wonder. _We finally found them! But they look like ordinary bullets._ She looked up at Rommie to see that the woman was equally awestruck.

"They're amazing, aren't they?" Elwood said as he stared down at them. "That man may have been shady, but he had an eye for what was truly unique." Turning with the box still in his hands, Elwood reached down into the drawer and pulled out some papers. "These are the manuscripts."

When he turned around, an astonished look came over him. Rommie's expression had changed to one of haughty confidence, and behind her stood Benkate and Baskerville. Benkate held a gun in her hand, pointed at Elwood, while Baskerville had grabbed the maid and held her at knifepoint.

The old maid shook. "M-M-Mr. Belgrade!"

Mingchao turned suddenly at the frightened voice. "What are you doing? Rommie, you didn't tell me you were going to do this!" She cast an angry glare at Baskerville. "Why, Mr. Priest? Elwood is my friend!"

"Mingchao—"

"No! You tricked Elwood into getting into his house! I thought you were going to ask him to help us." She gave Rommie a pleading look. "Ask him, Rommie! Please! He's a nice person!"

Elwood raised an eyebrow, his surprise gone. "So you came here for these?" He still held the box of bullets, though he had closed the lid. "Then my suspicions are confirmed. You are from the Dawn Posse the Order despises so much."

Rommie gave him a sinister smile. "You've heard of us? Good. Then you know that we'll kill to get those bullets."

"No!" yelled Mingchao, pulling on Rommie's dress. "I'm sorry, Elwood. I didn't know they were going to do this!"

Elwood said nothing. He stared hard at Rommie for a few tense moments, and then he started laughing.

"Mr….Belgrade?" the maid's voice trembled. She swallowed under Baskerville's blade.

When he stopped, he looked at Rommie, amused. "If you want them, you can have them, but only under one condition."

"And what's that?" asked Rommie. Her hands were getting clammy from want of the bullets. After years of battling the Order, the Posse's greatest advantage was right in front of her face!

Elwood returned Rommie's grim smile. "I have a bone to pick with the Order. Since I arrived here many years ago, they've pestered me to join their group. I did not know of their reputation at the time, so I kept refusing. Then, after a few years, I began hearing reports from my subordinates that some of our railcars were going missing. I didn't think it was coincidence that some of these railcars ended up being ones that carried a payload."

"You think the Order was stealing them?" asked Mingchao thoughtfully.

"I _know_ they were stealing them. Some of my more trusted associates began telling me of conversations they were overhearing from some of the other workers. That's when I heard about the Dawn Posse as well. When I once again refused the Order's invitation, another railcar of mine went missing soon after."

Rommie glared. "So what are you trying to say?"

"I'll help you. I have the money to fund your organization further. In fact, I know of a way you could get even closer to the Order. I can arrange it." Elwood brought forth the box again and opened it to reveal the bullets. "Will you take my offer?"

Rommie chewed her lip as she stared at them. "You…could lose everything. Why, over some missing railcars?"

"I've already lost everything," Elwood replied. Mingchao thought she detected a hint of sadness in his voice. "Remember what I told you earlier? I have a heart for free spirits, and I believe the Dawn Posse embodies that."

There was a moment of quiet before Rommie finally answered. "Fine, then."

Elwood carefully handed her the box of bullets, and she took them gingerly. As soon as her hands were on them, Baskerville let go of the maid. The old woman dashed out of the room frightfully.

Rommie stood there with the box in her hands as she thought. She looked up at Elwood. "They should remain with you."

Elwood gave her a confused look. "You don't want to take them? I thought you've been looking for them for a long time?"

"They wouldn't be safe with us. We have the first half of the gun that fires them."

Elwood perked up at this. "The 'first' half? Are you saying the gun is in two parts?"

Rommie told him the history of the gun, and it became apparent that Elwood didn't know there was a special gun to fire the bullets. The manuscripts he received said nothing about it, so he had assumed the bullets could be fired in any old gun from the same era, although he never intended to shoot them.

"If we keep the bullets and the gun separate, it would make it harder for the Order to try and steal them from us," said Rommie.

Elwood nodded. "This is wise. You have good judgment, as well as talent, for one so young."

A little color rose to Rommie's cheeks, which made Mingchao stifle a giggle.


	22. Infiltration

"Really? This was his idea of infiltrating the Olympus Order?" Benkate almost laughed, and it wasn't the first time since Elwood had presented the idea.

She peered around the corner of a building to watch as Baskerville strode leisurely toward the Mauglin Building. He was dressed in a flattering tailored suit that Elwood had purchased especially for him a few weeks prior.

She growled. _I didn't expect this to work, but apparently it has._ Staring at the Mauglin Building, Bekate considered it. It was built using a light colored stone, and it was a lot smaller than she had thought it would be. Initially, when she had heard about it, she expected to see an imposing structure like the Syndicate had at Bedloe's Island a year ago, but what Vixen had said about the Order had been true. They preferred to use nondescript and unassuming places to meet so they could remain inconspicuous.

The building was on a street corner, so when Baskerville turned and disappeared to find the entrance, Benkate stepped out onto the street. She sighed.

A few weeks ago, Elwood suggested that Baskerville pose as a new member of the Order by actually being initiated into the group. At first Rommie, Benkate, and Mingchao had been opposed to it, thinking he could be found out too quickly and possibly even killed for it, but Elwood assured them that the plan would work. The members here did not know Baskerville's face, and with his new and more refined appearance they likely wouldn't guess that he was the long-haired "priest" that the Order first encountered. If Baskerville could at least get into the initial ranks, he could give them details about what was going on inside, and what the interior of the building looked like.

"Are you going to see if they have all those guns?" Mingchao had asked worriedly.

"Not yet," said Elwood.

Rommie nodded. "It would be too risky to have him do it. Maybe he could get one of us inside?"

"Perhaps," Elwood replied. "I do believe they order a special delivery of newspapers straight to the building." He looked at Mingchao.

Mingchao pointed at herself. "You want _me_ to deliver it? How am I gonna do that? I don't do special deliveries."

Elwood winked at her. "I'll arrange it. I have a friend in a position of authority within the printing plant."

With that in mind, the plan had been set. Baskerville would weasel his way into the secret society's ranks, and eventually Mingchao would show up to deliver the newspapers. With the knowledge given to her of just about everything inside, the girl could find her way to where the guns might be located.

_But then what?_ Benkate had to wonder as she looked down the street where Baskerville disappeared. _Even if we were to find out where they were hoarding the guns, that doesn't mean they'll let me go get what's mine—assuming my guns really are in there. What does the Posse plan on doing with all the Order's guns anyway? When will they go after the other half of the Firebrand?_ Getting the other half would require going back down to Los Angeles, a trip she wasn't looking forward to. The trip to Spokane Falls had been horrendous. _I wouldn't mind staying here for a while. It's kinda nice here, even if it's a little small._

As Benkate was about to turn and go back the other way, she bumped into another passerby. "Oh, whoops! Sorry."

"Hummingbirds don't stay long this far north," said the girl who stood before her.

Blinking at her random reply, Benkate then recognized the teenager with the braid. _Gazelle!_ She scratched her head. "Uhh, I guess they don't. Do hummingbirds move somewhere else?"

The girl smiled. "They do. They like to go where it's warm…and safe." Beckoning Benkate to follow, the girl turned down the street.

* * *

"I'm sorry that our last meeting wasn't very helpful," Fortune told Rommie as they sat at the small table on Elwood's patio. The maid came to attend them, pouring coffee into two delicate cups. She eyed them warily, eager to leave. The old woman hadn't been happy to have these "ruffians" visiting Elwood so much, though the man wasn't present at the table. He left to take care of some business in the rail yard.

Standing about in the garden were other members admiring the gardener's handiwork, along with Benkate and Mingchao. The members had removed their hoods, and some of them completely removed their cloaks altogether. This was a first time Benkate and Mingchao had seen them fully.

"That's fine. We shouldn't rush, I suppose," said Rommie as she watched the others in the garden.

Fortune frowned. "At this time we ought to. We're very close, Rommie, especially after what I'm about to tell you. We received a telegraph from Clayton this morning."

Rommie snapped her gaze back at her associate. "Finally? I thought the man had abandoned us."

"Far from it. He's been busy taking out lesser members of the Order one by one. Apparently he captures them and then questions them, and recently one told him something that is of great interest to us."

Rommie leaned forward to hear Fortune's low voice.

"Remember when the branch leader in Los Angeles left on 'business'? It turns out he was actually delivering their half of the Firebrand to another location."

"Where?"

"It is here, Rommie. The Order keeps it stored with the other weapons they are hiding."

"How…convenient," mumbled Rommie. _So does that make our job harder or easier? It's right there in front of us, yet at the same time I'm sure the Order is guarding it._ She looked at Mingchao, who was bent over sniffing a flower. _Now I'm more afraid than ever of having to send her inside to find it._ Sending Mingchao was the best plan they could come up with, because as hard as they tried to create an alternate plan, they couldn't find a more plausible way without alerting the Order. "Then I guess we should hurry. If they find out the Posse is here—which I'm not sure they've noticed yet—our 'pieces' in this game might be in danger. They wouldn't hesitate to attack us, and Elwood. He's taking such a tremendous risk helping us."

"That wasn't quite the reaction I was expecting to see," Fortune said sadly. "I thought you'd be floored."

"Well, I am, but… I guess I've been so concerned for the safety of those three that I've tended to make it my first priority. Vixen made me their protector, after all, and I want to honor her by continuing to follow her order."

Fortune shook her head. "The dead do not make orders, Rommie. If you would like, we could put someone else with them—"

Rommie cut her off. "No, that's not necessary. From the way it sounds, these three will be playing a pivotal role in obtaining the last part of the Firebrand. As leader, I need to see it through. These members are my concern."

"Members?" Fortune raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Rommie, are you saying these three people are now a part of the Dawn Posse?"

"I decided this not long after we arrived here. They were shocked to hear it."

"I don't blame them. We've never had a man in the Posse before."

"I've also decided that Elwood be part of the Posse. With his connections—and money—we've gained quite a bit of ground against the Order. I think he deserves to be in on everything we do." Rommie looked back over at Benkate and Mingchao. Benkate had begun fussing at Mingchao over picking a flower out of the garden. Her annoyed voice carried over to the two seated at the table.

A few days after announcing their membership in the Posse, Rommie had obtained two necklaces with differing hummingbird charms, while Baskerville at last had the wedding dress relief shaved off his cross, and replaced it with an engraving of a hummingbird. Rommie sighed. _But with the end of the Order will come the end of the Posse, and the hummingbird symbol will be meaningless._ That was supposed to be a good thing.

* * *

"We've received the order for your official robe," said the portly man from behind his desk. He was beyond middle-aged and almost entirely bald except for the bit of hair above his ears. His double chin jiggled when he smiled.

Baskerville sat across from him and grimaced as the man bent over to pick up a box from the floor. The man always disgusted him. _I'd sooner kill myself than get that ugly when I get old._ But the person he was facing was the Olympus Order branch leader for the Spokane Falls area.

The man placed the box on the desk and opened it, pulling out a long scarlet robe from within. To Baskerville it looked like an ordinary robe, but once the man laid it out on the table, he could see the purple lion embroidered on the right breast. It appeared to be the only decoration on it.

"Thank you, Mr. Heaton," he said politely. "I'm very pleased to have joined you."

Heaton grinned. "You won't regret it. The Olympus Order is not only a wonderfully charitable organization, but also one that can give you quite a bit of status as an added bonus. That's the reason why I joined it, anyway."

Baskerville forced a smile. "Yes, I'm sure you did."

So far everything had gone off without a hitch. Two weeks prior, he came in, signed up, and was told he would be able to participate in an initiation ceremony once he received his robe. The ceremony was scheduled for the next day. While he was waiting, he was given a tour of the building where the group meetings were held, and he applied everything to memory so he could report back to Rommie.

During the tour, he noted a very narrow staircase that led to a lower level that was not apparent from the outside. When he asked about it, Heaton just laughed and said, "Oh, don't mind that. That's where we keep all our old junk. It's just storage."

Baskerville had smiled wryly.

The rest of the building, however, truly did impress him. As plain as it was on the outside, the inside was extravagant. Heavy tapestries lined several walls, many of them likely very old, and a huge fireplace had been constructed in a large hall where the men of the Order would gather to socialize or participate in other events. Statues and artwork were everywhere, and fancy furniture was strategically placed for the restful enjoyment of the members. Really, if the Order wasn't so evil Baskerville would definitely consider joining it for real.

In a way, the Mauglin Building displayed the same tastes as Elwood, which would explain why the Order was always pestering him to join. He'd fit in perfectly, but perhaps it was because they had too much in common that Elwood had kept his distance to remain an individual.

Heaton—Gulliver Heaton—saw Baskerville out the door. The old man smiled cheerily in the sunlight that filtered in through the door before closing it to return inside.

Baskerville snorted. _They don't have any idea how far the Posse has advanced against them._ He clutched his newly-engraved cross that lay beneath his shirt.

* * *

Heaton strode back toward his office, smiling to himself. As he passed the narrow stairway on his way, he stopped and grinned widely. The sound of footsteps echoed up the stairs, and a man appeared from the darkness below.

"Is it finished?" Heaton asked.

"The last of the supplies has been delivered. All that's left is the rest of the Firebrand." As the man approached the top of the stairs, he lifted his face. In front of Heaton stood a very handsome man in a black suit, and he had two large guns holstered at his hips. "Have you found the bullets yet?"

Heaton grumbled. "No. Yet I feel we are close. Their trail leads to this city, conveniently for us." Looking at the man in black, he frowned. There were traces of burns on the assassin's face, though the man didn't mention how it had happened. He usually kept his movements secret because the people who hired him were from Los Angeles, so he was not obligated to report anything to Heaton unless told to do so. It was such a pity, though, that someone with such striking features would be damaged in such a way.

"I hope you are able to find them soon, because your cohorts down south are getting a little impatient," the assassin said. "Also, I noticed you've been taking in new initiates. I thought the Order ceased this for the time being?"

Heaton gulped. "J-Just—well, we decided to take just a few more."

"But you realize that when the time comes, they would just flee from us? It's not wise to put so much effort into them when they will be completely useless to us."

Sweat was beginning to bead on Heaton's forehead. "Y-Yes. I understand. I will take no more."

As the black assassin passed by him on his way to the door, Heaton watched him out of the corner of his eye. Normally he wouldn't be afraid of anyone because of his high status, but this person was hired by another one of his associates, and it wasn't uncommon for members of the Order to kill even a higher ranking member if that person were to go against the status quo. The Order liked to maintain harmony and common ideals. Heaton had to make sure he went through with stopping any more potential members from joining, or else he'd be getting another visit from the assassin, and someone else would be brought in to replace him. Most of all, he needed to locate the Firebrand's bullets.

* * *

"Yeesh. They _should_ call themselves the Order of People Who Have No Fashion Sense," Benkate said as she made a face.

Baskerville stood there in his new robe, feeling more ridiculous than ever. "You really think it's that bad?"

"Like _you'd_ know what fashion is, Benkate," spat Mingchao. "You hardly wear any clothes at all! And when you do, it's all ripped up and dirty!"

Benkate stuck out her tongue. "At least I don't look like a boy."

"I'd rather look like a boy than a bum!"

"Hey!" snapped Baskerville. "Stop shouting or the neighbors will complain again." He removed the robe and folded it neatly.

"She's the one who's shouting," mumbled Benkate. Mingchao fixed her with a deadly glare.

Sighing, Baskerville changed the subject. "We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Once Rommie gets back, she'll go over the plan again with us."

Benkate scowled a little. "I don't have anything against the plan or anything, but it just bothers me that we didn't have a say in the matter."

Baskerville shook his head. "That can't be helped. We aren't in control of the decisions this time, and we all chose to stay with the Posse for this long. It's important that we follow Rommie's plan to a T."

Mingchao stood there tapping her foot mindlessly. Certainly breaking through to Bedloe's Island had been the most difficult and frightening experience of her life, because it had been heavily barricaded. This time, however, she would be going into a place that was easy to get into, and to her it seemed just as difficult to try and remain undetected as it was to fight her way through. One wrong move and she could not only lose her own life, but Baskerville's as well.

_But I'm the only one who can do it,_ she thought as she chewed her lip nervously. _Everyone believes in me._


	23. Smooth Criminal

Mingchao stared up the steps apprehensively. She knew very well in her heart that she may not ever descend those stairs, but she had to go up. This was the defining moment of her entire journey with the Dawn Posse.

"Are you just gonna stand there, or are you gonna deliver those papers?" said the man behind her in the wagon. He was also with the press, and he had another load of papers to deliver. He couldn't afford to wait around for Mingchao.

She smiled weakly. "U-Um, sorry. I'm getting to it." She grabbed up a small stack of newspapers and took one step up the stairs. To her it seemed a million miles to the top, but she took another step and turned around to look at her partner when he spoke again.

"I'll go deliver the rest while you take those in," he told her. "If you're gonna take this long…" Slapping the reigns of the horse, he sped off down the street to another destination, leaving Mingchao alone. She watched him leave, and then turned back to the stairs.

She hefted up the newspapers and started up again, taking one step at a time. When she got close to the large double-doors, she set the papers down and pushed one door open. Cool air wafted out, and there was no one down the extensive hallway that she could see.

The hallway was carpeted with deep scarlet, and many paintings of the buildings' patrons and founders lined the walls down to a large window. To her left was a large staircase that led up. The window at the end of the hall let in enough afternoon light to see, but fixed to the walls were sconces that held thick burning candles. Still, it was somewhat dim.

"Hello?" Mingchao called. "I've brought your newspapers." No answer. Taking a quick glance around, she saw a low table and settled the papers there. When she turned to view her surroundings, she still didn't see anyone. It was odd, but this was extremely good luck for her. With no one around she could snoop about with slim chance of getting caught. She just had to get to the narrow staircase and back out again before everyone returned from the ceremony.

Mingchao recalled Baskerville's instructions on getting to the narrow stairwell. As she left the front lobby and treaded carefully down the carpet, she felt the sudden urge to run to the end of the hallway, but knew she couldn't. Her friend had warned her not to, or else she'd make too much noise with her thumping boots.

She stared up at the paintings of men as she passed by, bothered by their stern gazes, as if they knew what she was trying to do. When she reached the large window, she turned back to look down the hallway. Still no one was about.

Mingchao made several more turns, feeling like the building was built like a maze. She hoped she'd find her way out in time! But right as she thought she was actually making her way back to the front of the building, she stopped when a gap opened up in the wall beside her. The narrow staircase—plain and unadorned—descended into the darkness in front of her. They were made from stone that was similar to the outside of the building.

 _I won't be able to see down there,_ she realized. She snapped her fingers as an idea dawned on her, and she stepped up onto a nearby chair to grab a fat candle from its sconce. Then she faced the stairs again.

Taking a breath, Mingchao took slow steps down, but hesitated before she entered total darkness. Memories came back to her, from her final days against the Syndicate, of being locked in Bearded Ina's basement, and being in the underground tunnel that led to Bedloe's Island. Although this wasn't nearly as difficult, she still harbored uneasiness in dark, enclosed spaces. And she didn't know how long it would take for her to find the gun's muzzle, if it was even down there.

She forced her legs to move forward, and the darkness completely engulfed her, with only the light of her candle to keep her from tripping on the stairs. Its weak illumination didn't help her see very far, and after ten steps she still couldn't see an end. The stairs curved around the wall and began to tightly spiral downwards.

Mingchao bit her lip. Baskerville hadn't been down the stairs, so he had no idea what was at the bottom. It was the only clue they had as to where the Order might be hiding their weapons, and the Firebrand's muzzle. She hoped to everything holy that she wasn't doing this in vain.

When she turned another corner in the spiral she sighed, thinking the stairs would go on forever. Her feet tapped along on the stones, the noise echoing into oblivion. She thought she was beginning to feel a little dizzy when the staircase came to a sudden halt. A small wooden door met her face-to-face.

Surprised, Mingchao blinked. _Where's the doorknob?_ The door's rough surface was devoid of any handle or knob, or even a keyhole. But if this was indeed a door, it was meant to open. Holding her candle in one hand, Mingchao reached out and pushed on it. It wouldn't budge.

She growled, frustrated. There was no way this door could just not move when there was no obvious way of locking it—unless it was locked from the inside, which didn't make sense to her.

Putting down her candle, Mingchao placed both hands on the wood and pushed with all her might. She strained against it, and then suddenly fell forward as the door gave way. She plunged into the musty darkness, hitting the earthen floor and almost eating a mouthful of dirt.

Spitting, she tried to regain her orientation. The door had popped open, and she could see her candle's flame flickering beyond it. She took it up again and surveyed the basement.

The place was huge. As she moved forward, her light danced off what appeared to be dozens of crates of all shapes and sizes. They were piled everywhere, some stacks reaching as high as the ceiling. Walking over to one, Mingchao lifted its lid.

The gleaming barrels of three long rifles were nestled inside, covered in straw.

"Guns," she murmured quietly. It was exactly as the lawman Clayton had heard, and what the Posse feared. She gazed up at the stacks, imagining all sorts of guns hidden in them.

Walking over to another random box within reasonable reach, Mingchao opened it. She gasped loudly when she saw what was inside. A strange looking rifle lay within, folded in three parts. _Benkate's seven-foot rifle! Her guns ARE here!_

Although this news was exciting to her, she couldn't help but also feel dismayed. Out of all these hundreds of crates, which one had the Firebrand? She certainly didn't have time to go through all of them, and she couldn't do it alone. She also couldn't retrieve Benkate's guns for her. The redhead would go nuts when she found out her guns were so close.

Sighing, Mingchao shut the lid on Benkate's prized rifle. She frowned regretfully, but took her candle again and began examining the room further.

At first all she could see were the crates and other various objects like chairs, tables, and old artwork that was intended for storage. The entire room was filled around the walls, all the way to the edges of the door, but one area caught her eye. There was a space near the wall across from her where there were fewer crates stacked, so few that they were stacked only as high as she was tall. _That's strange,_ she thought. _This place is packed, but there…_ Behind the crates, it looked like a taller one was placed against the wall.

Bringing her candle closer, she could see what it was: another door. Grinning, Mingchao dashed over and began hauling the crates away from the wall. Some were a little too heavy, so she had to drag them as best she could, just enough to create a space large enough for her to get through to the door. Once she had the room, she stepped over. Like the door leading into the basement, this one also didn't have a handle, so she placed her hands on it, expecting it to stick like before, but instead it eased open with a creak.

Much to her surprise, the tiny room behind the door was completely empty. There were a few crude shelves built into the walls, but that was it. The odor of damp earth stifled the air, and Mingchao was about to leave when she noticed something. Over in the very far corner was a very small box. She headed over to it and lifted it.

Her hands were sweating when she opened it. Her candle seemed to reflect her emotions as it flickered intensely upon the muzzle of the Firebrand. Mingchao's heart sped up, and she snatched the item from its box, but replaced the box carefully back in its corner.

She then quickly placed the crates back against the wall to the best of her ability, and left the basement, heading back up the winding staircase. As she was getting close to the light from above, she stopped and pressed herself against the wall. Voices echoed down to her ears.

"How did it go?" she heard a man ask.

"Easier than I thought," replied another. "I was expecting more resistance."

Mingchao's blood froze at the sound of the second man's tone. _I've heard that voice before… But what's he talking about?_

"Then it's taken care of? Will it turn in our favor?" said the first man.

"I believe so, but they won't be expecting what's next," answered the other man. Mingchao could almost imagine him smiling at his own words.

"Good. Then all that's left to do is wait," the first man stated gravely.

When Mingchao was certain the footsteps of the departing men were gone, she cautiously emerged from the stairwell, looking both ways before stepping out fully. She was betting those men were talking about the Posse. If so, then it was imperative that she warn them!

But there was a problem. She was feeling a little disoriented after coming out, not sure which way she had come when she had arrived. Did she come from the left or the right? Glancing up at the sconce above her, she noticed there was a candle there, where before she thought the one she held in her hand was the one that belonged there. Did someone come by, notice it gone, and replace it?

Shrugging, Mingchao blew hers out and tossed it down the stairs, out of sight and suspicion.

She took her best guess and went right, following the hallway until ended and met with another hallway. Although the building looked small enough on the outside, it was much larger inside.

She was starting to grow really nervous now, and she placed her hand on her stomach where she had hidden the Firebrand's muzzle in her shirt. It probably wouldn't be long before the initiation ceremony was over, and everyone would be coming out! She had to find the exit, and fast!

Turning another corner, Mingchao sighed at another long hallway. The whole place was starting to look the same, but her heart jumped when she heard more voices coming from behind her. Frantically looking for somewhere to hide, she found a giant vase placed in a corner, so she went and hid behind it to wait for the people to pass.

As the crowd of men in scarlet robes walked by, she watched them, waiting until it was clear, but then she realized that the group was likely headed where she needed to go.

When the last of the men went by, she waited until he was at least ten steps away before coming out from behind the vase. As soon as she stepped away from the wall, the man in the back of the group turned around and saw her. Mingchao clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out.

"Mingchao!" Baskerville whispered harshly. It had taken the girl a second to realize it was her friend who saw her. He let the group move further down the hall, and no one seemed to notice that he had fallen behind. "You're supposed be gone by now!"

"I'm sorry!" whispered Mingchao. "I got lost on my way back! Which way is the door?"

"Did you find it?" Baskerville asked in earnest.

Without a word, Mingchao nodded quickly, but as she was going to pull it out to show him, Baskerville waved her away. "Good, but you have to get out here!"

Looking to see that the group of men had disappeared, Baskerville steered Mingchao back in the opposite direction.

She pointed behind her. "I thought the door was that way?"

"They're going to the reception, and if I'm not there someone's bound to notice," her friend explained. "Go down the hall and take a left. The front door's there."

Nodding, Mingchao bounded down the hallway, leaving Baskerville cringing in her wake. He'd told her not to run!

* * *

It took every ounce of self-control Mingchao had to keep herself from bolting out the building and down the street. She had been instructed to walk slowly and casually, but she didn't understand what difference it would make.

She only relaxed as soon as the Mauglin Building was out of sight, but since she had the Firebrand's muzzle, she kept thinking everyone already knew.

Mingchao kept her cap low as she took a sharp turn down an alley. She took a breath and removed the cap, letting her hair fall. She felt so much pressure on her head from keeping it up all the time.

Although she was relieved to be out of that nest of monsters, Mingchao was confronted with yet another problem.

"Rommie?" she called quietly. "Where are you?"

Rommie had told her earlier that day to meet her in that exact alleyway, yet she was nowhere to be seen. She had promised to wait as long as it took.

 _This is bad,_ Mingchao thought as she glanced around nervously. _She's supposed to be here. What am I supposed to do now?_

She couldn't wait there forever. Even though she was in an alley, she was still exposed, and there was no telling when the Order would find out their greatest game piece was missing. For all she knew, they already found out, and were on their way to kill her.

Mingchao leaned against the wall and waited a while longer. As the sun slowly moved, a sliver of light crept into the alley, and something glimmered in the grit on the ground. She moved to pick it up.

"A ring?" she muttered. It was golden band, heavy, and in very good condition. _Did someone lose it here?_ Shrugging, the girl pocketed the ring and gave the alley one last look around. She couldn't stay any longer to find out if Rommie was coming or not.

* * *

"Rommie wasn't there?" Baskerville said in surprise. "That's not like her." He had just folded away his robes and taken a seat at the table. The air in the room was suddenly tense.

"No, it isn't," Benkate agreed. "She had me here the whole time to guard our half of the gun, so she wasn't here."

"Mr. Priest, what if something bad happened to her?" asked Mingchao. "We have to go find her!"

"I'm sorry, but...we can't," Baskerville replied in a low voice. "We're supposed to meet the Posse again soon. They want the second half."

"But we can't just sit here and do nothing!" Mingchao protested. "Rommie's out there somewhere, alone, and probably hurt!"

Benkate attempted a comforting smile. "We don't know that for sure. Maybe she just went off to run some errands?"

That didn't seem to ease Mingchao's worries. "Run errands?" she blurted. "Benkate, you wouldn't be running errands if I were bringing you your seven-foot rifle!"

Benkate shrugged. "It was just a suggestion, calm down. Listen, you're right to think that this is weird, but we can't wait around for Rommie to just suddenly show up. I'm sure that she would want us to continue without her, regardless of what happened to her."

Baskerville looked at the girl sadly. "She's right, Mingchao. I'm sorry, but we have to keep going."

Mingchao opened her mouth to say more, but then shut it. She looked down at table forlornly. _I can't believe they won't even try looking for her. I thought Rommie was our friend?_ "Benkate."

the redhead looked up. "Hm?"

Mingchao's voice was flat. "I found your rifle in the Order's basement."

At first Benkate said nothing, but then her expression slowly changed to absolutely ecstatic joy. "I KNEW IT ALL ALONG!" she shrieked. "I bet all my guns are there! We gotta go get 'em!"

Mingchao jumped up from her seat. "You're willing to get your guns, but you won't go find Rommie?"

Benkate crossed her arms. "At least I know _where_ my guns are. If anything, the Posse could use them against the Order."

Mingchao was stunned that Benkate would actually suggest loaning her guns to someone else.

"But you know we can't get them yet," Baskerville said. "It was risky enough just getting half a gun out of there."

"Sounds to me like it was a little _too_ easy," Benkate said slowly. "They didn't have any guards posted or nothin'. They have a stash of weapons and not a person to watch over it. Don't you think that's a little odd?"

"It is. Not too wise for an organization like the Olympus Order. The Posse had at least you to watch the Firebrand, even if you are just one person."

"I even found the muzzle in that little room," Mingchao pointed out. She seemed to put the earlier conversation behind her, but it still lingered in the back of her mind. "That's a weird place to store a great treasure."

As their conversation halted, Baskerville left the room while the other two stayed at the table. Benkate was deep in thought when she heard a tapping noise across from her.

"Hey, what the heck are you doing?" she asked.

Mingchao was leaning her cheek against her palm with her elbow on the table, and with her other hand she fiddled with the gold ring. It was making a tapping sound on the wood of the table as she flipped it over and over.

Benkate's eyes sparkled. "Whoa, where'd you get that hunk of gold?"

"I found it in the alley where I was supposed to meet Rommie," Mingchao replied distantly. "Someone must've lost it."

"You want it?"

"I'm not giving it to you, Benkate! Not after you refused to look for Rommie!"

"We can't help that!" She eyed the ring as Mingchao continued to flip it. "It looks like a man's ring."

"Does it?" the girl asked, bringing it up to her eyes. "I couldn't tell."

"Let me see it," Benkate offered. Mingchao gave her a glare, and she added, "I won't take it. I just want to see it."

When Benkate felt the smooth metal, she whistled. "This is nice. You should sell it." Then she looked up suddenly, and a wide grin spread across her face. "I bet you this is a man's ring. Hey, Baskey, come in here!"

"What is it now?" he replied as he returned.

Benkate gave him a stare. "What are you doing in there?"

"Nothing. What do you want?"

Benkate quickly jumped up from her chair and grabbed Baskerville's left hand, shocking him. "W-What are you doing?"

"Let's see…" She picked out Baskerville's ring finger and slid on the ring. She beamed. "It fits!"

Baskerville blushed. "No, it doesn't! Take it off!"

"You're right. It's too big," Benkate agreed. She sighed. "Ah, well. I was hoping it'd fit, but I guess you're too scrawny."

Baskerville expression smoldered. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that whoever owned this before had bigger fingers. But it was definitely a man. Come on, Baskey, admit it. It looks good on you." She gave him a crude smile.

Baskerville scowled and looked to Mingchao, who had been trying to control a fit of giggles during the whole scene. "Oh, so you think it's funny, too?"

Mingchao nodded with her hand pressed to her mouth.

Benkate grinned again. "Just look at yourself, Baskey. All done up with your hair cut, wearing nice clothes, and now a ring on your finger. Aren't you just dapper? Not anything like I knew back in the old days."

Still blushing, Baskerville grimaced. "I wish I looked like this back in New York. Instead you dressed me up like a fool!"

Benkate laughed. "Well, we didn't know Elwood back then. Too bad he hadn't been back east to help us pick out an outfit!"

Rolling his eyes, Baskerville removed the ring and tossed it back to Mingchao.


	24. Bait

"It fits perfectly," Elwood said from his seat at the head of the table.

The Dawn Posse had gathered at his home that evening to assemble the Firebrand. It lay at the center of the long table in the meeting room, both halves connected and locked. The women seated and standing stared at it with giddy joy, but some looked at it in nervous fear. This was the moment they had all been waiting for, what they'd been fighting to obtain for years, and the room was filled with mixed emotions. One person, however, wasn't excited at all. Mingchao stood in a corner, worried about Rommie. She still hadn't shown up, and no one had received any word from her. Although the subject of her disappearance had been discussed, it quickly turned back to the gun.

 _Everyone ran to Vixen's side when she was killed, but no one's doing anything to find Rommie,_ Mingchao thought as she observed everyone. _It's like the gun's more important than she is._

"It's in wonderful shape as well," added Elwood. "Whoever had it must've taken care of it, although I suspect it probably changed hands over the years as the bullets did."

"So then, what do you suggest we do now?" asked Baskerville, standing behind the millionaire. He looked to Fortune.

"We need to get it out of the country as soon as possible," she told him. "The sooner the better, but we need to prepare some things, so we can't leave until morning."

"Wait, you're just going to leave?" Mingchao asked. "What about Rommie?"

"We'll send some of our girls out to look for her, but if we must….we'll have to leave without her." Fortune frowned at her own statement, but there really wasn't anything they could do. They had all the pieces of the Firebrand, and now they had to escape as fast as they could. It wouldn't be long before the Order sought them out, and the longer they stayed looking for Rommie, the greater the risk of losing the Firebrand. "Tomorrow, after sunrise, Mr. Belgrade will meet us across the river, and we will head for Canada. No matter what, we _must_ get the gun out of this city, even if it means some of us must fall behind."

"No, that's not right—" Mingchao tried to say, but Benkate shushed her.

"Mingchao, don't worry. Rommie's tough, and I know a tough girl when I see one. I'm sure she's fine, wherever she is." She winked.

Angry, Mingchao pushed her way around the women and stormed out. She couldn't believe Benkate was going along with this. _When Cavanaugh had her all strung up, we came to save her as soon as we heard! We never thought about leaving her behind!_

She found herself in the room with the gun collection, although it was dark. Only faint moonlight came in through the window, reflecting off the glass cases. Considering them, she felt for her Eto Gun. _They're going to take too long before they start looking. As long as I have the Eto Gun, I can protect myself._ She looked back toward the room where everyone was gathered. _I don't mean to make Mr. Priest and Benkate worry, but… I have to do this! It's eating me up inside!_

Even as Mingchao left the house quietly and took off into the night, she still wasn't sure where she was going. Her first thought was to return to the alley where Rommie was supposed to meet her.

Street lanterns were being lit in the streets, and people were beginning to retire for the night. Mingchao had put up her hair and put the hat back on her head. She glanced at people warily as she passed them. She was wondering if the Order had found out yet, but there didn't appear to be any obvious signs.

When she arrived at the alley, she stopped and stared into it. It was an ordinary alley, and Rommie hadn't chosen it for any particular reason. It stretched back until it struck a dead end with another building. Nothing seemed abnormal, and when she searched the ground, she didn't find anything suspicious, but what she noticed next made her wonder. Someone had constructed a precarious ladder out of wood and rope, and it hung down over the wall of the building to her right, toward the back of the alley. To anyone it was just an ordinary ladder placed there for maintenance purposes and then forgotten, but Mingchao played a different scenario in her head.

 _Someone came down and caught Rommie,_ she realized. _That_ had _to be what happened._ Rommie would've put up a big fight if someone had approached her from the entrance of the alley, but if they had snuck up from behind…

Mingchao gasped. "That man I heard earlier," she mumbled aloud, "that was…the black assassin!" _HE came here and got her!_ The conversation she had heard while coming up from the basement had been about Rommie! _"I was expecting more resistance,"_ she remembered the assassin saying. Was the Posse's leader taken by surprise? And if by the time Mingchao had heard the assassin's voice, was Rommie already in his possession?

Her mind raced. Where could they have taken her? Her only idea was the Mauglin Building, but she shivered at the thought of going back there. Taking up the Eto Gun, she sighed. She had only one bottle of animal essence on her, and it was full of horse hair. It was all she had left since leaving Los Angeles. All the rest of her collection was back at the house there. _With my last bullets, I'll find out where they're hiding her, and I'll save her!_

* * *

As the meeting in Elwood's home came to a close, the women started filing out. Elwood had wrapped the Firebrand in cloth and placed it in the secret drawer under the glass cases, along with its bullets. On their way out, Benkate caught Baskerville by his sleeve.

"Where'd Mingchao go?" she asked.

"Probably to pout, but I don't blame her," he replied. "I'm just as bothered as she is. I think I'll go with the Posse to try and find Rommie."

"Baskerville," said Benkate with a warning in her tone, "we know Mingchao better than to think she's just sulking in the other room."

Baskerville looked at her curiously for a moment, and then his eyes went wide. "Y-You don't think…she went to find Rommie?"

His voice was so sharp that everyone still in the room turned to look at him.

"Let me go with the Posse to find them," Benkate told him. "You're in no condition to be doing this. We might get attacked while we're out."

"No," replied Baskerville firmly. "Mingchao's out there alone! I can't rest easy until I know she's okay." She'd done things like this before, and always managed to get herself into some kind of trouble. He wasn't about to let it happen again.

"Geez, you're like a frantic father whose toddler just wandered away." Benkate grinned. "Fine, you can go, but I'm definitely going with you. Ever since I saw what happened to you back at the saloon…"

Baskerville shook his head. "Don't worry about me. We should worry about Mingchao and Rommie instead."

When they were in agreement, they met with Fortune outside and told her what had happened to Mingchao. The doctor dispatched five women along with Baskerville and Benkate into the city, more specifically towards the Mauglin Building. Baskerville had suspected that Mingchao would head back that way. The girl probably assumed that Rommie was there.

* * *

Mingchao crouched behind a bush, watching. She was just below a window at the Mauglin Building, and had been waiting for any sign that someone was inside, but the whole time she was there the windows had remained dark. There wasn't a flicker of light to be seen.

She swallowed. _Maybe no one's there. ...No, that's not right. Someone in there has to be on guard._ Gripping the Eto Gun, she darted away from the bush and stood under another window. She reached up, took hold of the sill, and tried to lift herself up, scraping her boots on the stones to aid her.

She managed to peer, just barely, into the window, but all she could see was her own reflection. She would need her hands to cup around her eyes to see well enough into the room. Letting go of the sill, Mingchao dropped to the ground and ran over to another window.

This window was lower, so she was able to look directly into it, although the darkness still obscured her view. Taking the Eto Gun, Mingchao tapped the glass. She waited, hoping to maybe see a light or some movement, but there was nothing. She tapped it again, harder this time, and still there was no response. One last time, she brought up her gun and smashed the window. Shards fell around her feet and on the sill, so she used her sleeve to brush it away. Waiting a few more moments to see if there would be any movement, she pulled herself up and over the sill, squirming her way into the dark room, careful to avoid the glass on the other side. The shards cracked under her boots.

Inside, Mingchao let her eyes adjust to the darkness. She was in a room with a large desk; that she could see at least. She couldn't make out anything on the walls, or the other furniture, but she supposed it was someone's office. _I need to find the basement again,_ she thought to herself as she slowly made her way to the door. _If they were keeping Rommie here, that's where they'd hide her, probably in that little room._ She reached for the handle of the door and turned it. It was unlocked.

Mingchao narrowed her eyes at the knob. Either the gods of luck really liked her, or something was very fishy remembered that the doors to the basement were unlocked as well, even though they lacked handles. Even Baskerville locked just about everything at home. Why didn't the Order lock their office doors? She bet that the front doors were probably unlocked, too.

She ventured out into the hallway, hoping that perhaps the candles were lit, but they weren't. Everything was dark, and there was only silence. The hall stretched into nothingness.

There really didn't seem to be anyone inside, but it just didn't make sense to her. She remembered how well fortified the Syndicate's base had been, and all this time the Olympus Order had proved to be dangerous, but why would they leave their own base unattended? Either they were incredibly stupid, or… Her mind recollected what the assassin had said: _"They won't be expecting what's next."_

What was next? Did this have something to do with their plan? Mingchao's heart began racing, and she wondered if she had perhaps fallen right into their trap.

* * *

The Posse came upon the Mauglin Building not long after Mingchao had broken in. The women, dressed in their cloaks, crept up in the landscaping and tried peering into the windows as Mingchao had done.

One of the women turned to Benkate. "I don't see anyone inside."

"There has to be," Benkate whispered back. "They're not that stupid."

"Then something's wrong," said Baskerville from behind them.

"Are you sure Mingchao's here?" asked Benkate. "Because I'm not going in if you're not sure."

Baskerville stared hard at her. "I know her. This is the first place that would come to her mind if she thought Rommie had gotten into trouble." He pulled out some knives. "She'll probably try the basement first."

"Do you think Rommie's there, too?" Benkate asked again.

Baskerville shook his head. "I don't know. They probably have hundreds of places they could hide her, if they took her. My only concern right now is getting Mingchao out of there." They were going to have a long talk when he got her home.

* * *

Mingchao placed a hand on the wall and followed it until she felt it end sharply and turn down another hall. She was beginning to doubt she'd find the stairs to the basement again, but she had to try. If no one was here, she had all night to try and find it. She held her Eto Gun in her other hand, the horse hair already sprinkled on it.

She wandered for several minutes, her eyes scanning the darkness for the entrance to the basement, but after ten minutes she still hadn't found it yet. _I must be going in circles_ , she thought, but as she approached another hall perpendicular to the one she was traveling, she noticed flickering shadows. There was a candle burning down that other hall, and she stopped and pressed herself against the wall to peer around the corner.

She sighed with relief when she saw the lone candle on the sconce. There was no one else nearby, but someone had to have lit it and left it there. Creeping up slowly to the candle, Mingchao realized she had found the entrance to the basement, but the presence of the candle bothered her. Was someone down there?

She considered taking the candle like she had last time, but when she looked down the stairwell she noticed the entire place was alight with candles on the wall, leading down the steps. Before, it had been so dark she hadn't notice the sconces on the walls, and never knew it could be lit. Holding the Eto Gun in both hands in front of her, Mingchao started slowly down the stairs, expecting an enemy around every corner she turned, but she could only hear the sound of her boots on the stones. The still flames of the candles were disturbed by her passage, casting a ghoulish shadow all around her. They only increased her nervousness, and her palms were beginning to sweat.

 _If there're all these candles down here, they're definitely doing something,_ she reasoned. She gripped her gun. _But I'm ready for them._

When she finally reached the door at the bottom, she saw that it was open just a crack. There didn't seem to be any light beyond it.

Putting her foot out, Mingchao shoved the door and put slight pressure on the trigger of the Eto Gun. The door creaked as it swung open, and the blackness of the basement greeted her.

"Is anybody in here?" she called, and her voice echoed off the walls. There was no reply. When the light from the candles on the stairs shone into the room, she noticed there seemed to be fewer boxes than she remembered. The crates no longer reached the ceiling. She had been in the basement just that morning. Where could they have gone so quickly?

Still holding the Eto Gun in front of her, Mingchao stepped into the room. "Rommie, are you in here?"

Silence.

Lowering her gun, she picked up a candle from the last stair outside the door and went over to the door that led into the little room. The crates that had once been there were gone now, and the door was wide open. She peered inside, finding it empty. She was so sure they'd keep Rommie in there. Did she come here for nothing?

"You weren't quite the one I was expecting," said a voice behind her.

Mingchao nearly jumped out of her boots and whirled around, her gun aimed and ready. She couldn't stop herself from gasping. " _You_!"

The assassin stood in the light pouring from the stairway, one of his guns in his hand. His clothes were so black that if he had stepped back into the darkness he would've completely disappeared. He smiled at her. "Yes, it's me again, you little wretch. I see you brought your gun."

"That's right!" Mingchao declared. "If you don't tell me where Rommie is, I'll shoot you again! I know you took her!"

The man rubbed the back of his neck as he gave her a half-smile. "You thought she was here? Well, at least I got part of the plan right."

Mingchao almost lowered her gun in surprise. "You mean she's not here?"

The man shook his head. "Of course not, but _you_ are."

As soon as he said it, Mingchao heard the familiar sound of guns being cocked. Out of the darkness, probably a dozen men or more came out, dressed in solid black like the assassin. Several held rifles, while a few others held revolvers. They all grinned at her wickedly.

"I would advise you to drop your weapon," the assassin said.

Mingchao's hands trembled on the Eto Gun. At first she considered shooting anyway so she could escape, but in the ruckus she would probably be shot by one of the other men. She'd been lucky many times before, but that's really all it was: just luck.

"Don't worry," the man told her sweetly, "we won't kill you. You're more valuable to us alive, even though we were hoping for bigger game."

"B-Bigger game?" Mingchao stuttered. She still kept the Eto Gun aimed at the assassin.

He shrugged. "Of course. We were hoping for the entire Posse to come down here, not a child. We figured that the Posse would come looking for their missing leader, and we would kill them here."

 _But the Posse probably_ is _coming!_ Mingchao thought. "This was part of your plan…wasn't it?"

The assassin rolled his eyes. "I just explained it to you."

"No, I mean the doors. They were all unlocked."

The assassin shrugged again. "We thought we'd make it easy for you. Leave all the doors open, and the Posse can get the Firebrand's muzzle. They get the muzzle, they have all the parts."

Mingchao stared at him, confused. Did he know the Posse had the bullets? "But we don't have all the parts," she told him.

The assassin waved a finger. "Little girls shouldn't tell lies. We know you found the bullets. We were just waiting for you to get all the parts so we could take them from you all in one pretty package."

Terror struck Mingchao's heart. The unlocked doors, the unguarded basement, and the empty building—all part of the Order's plan to "turn the tables." Did they know about Baskerville joining them as well? No, they couldn't have. They probably suspected that the Posse would try to get inside somehow or another, although they probably didn't think they would be directly infiltrated.

The assassin looked down at her with mock pity. "You really are just a child. We believed that once the Posse had all the pieces, they would think they were ahead of the game, but as they were celebrating their victory we would strike them unawares."

"The Posse's not that stupid!" Mingchao shot back. "They're leaving with everything tomorrow! You'll never catch them! They'll destroy the gun and no one will ever be able to use it."

The man chuckled, amused. "They won't have a chance. Our informant is already on her way here with all the pieces."

Mingchao perked up at the last statement. Informant? Was there a spy among the Posse? She seethed at the idea of the Posse's hard work being destroyed by a single person.

The assassin smiled again. "Now why don't you put your gun down? It's useless to try and resist us. If you want to see Rommie so bad, I can take you to her."

When he offered to let her see Rommie, Mingchao lowered her gun in defeat, but she felt that at least she would be able to see where they were keeping her.

At a gesture from the assassin, another man took Mingchao's gun and roughly turned her around by the collar, leading her into the little room where she had found the Firebrand. For a moment Mingchao thought they were going to trap her inside, but then one of the men brushed away the dirt from the floor to reveal a metal ring. He pulled on it and a large hidden door opened up, spilling dirt. A black hole gaped in front of them.

"Rommie's down there? But I thought you said she wasn't here?" shouted Mingchao. "You're lying to me!"

The man grasping her shoved her down the crude, wooden steps. Their feet creaked on the old wood, the sound echoing in the dark chamber. Mingchao couldn't see a thing.

Once they reached the floor, a candle was placed on the steps so the man could tie Mingchao's hands behind her. The girl struggled at first, but the man held her arms so tightly that it hurt to move. He bound the ropes around her wrists, and then tied another around her arms. When he was finished, he pushed her, making her stumble and fall to the ground.

The light from the candle melted away as the man departed, and then she could only hear the voice of the assassin. "We'll keep you here for a time."

"You said you'd take me to Rommie! You said she wasn't here!" Mingchao shrieked up the steps.

"I lied," the assassin said simply, and then the cellar door dropped shut, creating a loud boom that sent dust trickling into the cellar and into Mingchao's eyes. She blinked several times to clear them.

Above her, she heard the sound of something heavy being dragged over the cellar, probably a large crate. It would be too heavy for Mingchao to try and lift the door by herself. Sitting down on the floor in pitch darkness, she felt like she could scream.

* * *

Outside the Mauglin Building, the Posse was discussing how to get in when another member came around the side of the building. "I found a window broken around the corner," she told them.

"She's being reckless," Benkate mumbled. "Then she probably is inside."

"I see the door open in the room as well," said the other woman. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"We all do," Baskerville agreed, "but we have to go in. We'll try the broken window and trace Mingchao. With my knowledge of the building, I can lead everyone to the basement."

They all stood in unison from their position in the landscaping, but as soon as they took their first steps, a gunshot broke the ground between Baskerville and Benkate. They jumped up against the building, readying their weapons.

"Scatter!" they heard a woman shout nearby. "They've found us!"

As more gunfire shattered the quiet night air, the two dashed away from the building and across the street where more bullets followed them.

"They knew we were coming!" Benkate shouted at Baskerville as they fled down an alley. "It was a trap!"

Breathing hard, Baskerville stopped and leaned a hand against the brick wall of the building next to him. He nodded at her. Benkate looked at him with concern, but said nothing.

None of the other Posse girls had followed them. They were probably hiding somewhere else, but if anyone stepped out, the snipers would be ready.

"Rommie really must be in there," Baskerville said between breaths.

"Or maybe it's Mingchao they're holding hostage?" wondered Benkate. "Or maybe the broken window was a setup, too."

Baskerville shook his head at her last sentence. "No. They're both in there."

When the gunfire had stopped, Benkate approached the alley's exit. "They've gotta be somewhere above us. We're trapped. They'll just wait until we come out and then kill us."

"They don't have to wait," Baskerville said softly. When she turned to look at him, he was gazing upward. Benkate bit back a cry of shock when she saw the forms on the roofs, their rifles aimed at the two. There were more than she had time to count.

"Oh my god…"


	25. Inferno

"This was much easier than my previous plan," the black assassin said as he watched the group being herded toward him. He stood out in the street with his silver guns in his hands, waiting.

The women held their hands up as the men behind them prodded them forward. Benkate and Baskerville followed. Baskerville's knife belt was slung over the shoulder of one of his captors.

The assassin frowned when he saw Baskerville. "You? I should've known the Posse would try something like this. I knew that Heaton was an idiot."

"You're pretty stupid yourself for not recognizing him before," Benkate snapped, and the man behind her slapped her behind her head.

The assassin grimaced. "I certainly have a hard time recognizing _you_. Your dress was much more becoming."

Benkate spat off to the side. "You're a fop!"

Ignoring her, the assassin looked to the other captives. "I was hoping for more here, but this should be enough. The Posse's numbers have been dwindling lately, anyway."

"Who are you?" Baskerville cut in. "Rommie said she knew you."

The assassin laughed. "She's so precious, isn't she? Yes, she's known me since childhood." At seeing the group's surprise, he continued, "I am Aeon Prevett. I've been with the Order down south for a number of years, weeding out the people they don't like."

Benkate growled. "How can Rommie know a scumbag like you?"

Aeon gave her an even stare. "I told you. I've known her since childhood, and so did my half-brother, Ezra. Ezra was rising in the ranks of the Order when he died."

"Did you kill her friend, you bastard?" Benkate lurched forward, but two men seized her by the arms.

"Friend?" Aeon echoed, drawing his eyebrows together. "Who told you he was her friend? They were _married_ when I killed him."

Another shockwave rippled through the Posse. "But she never told us that," said a woman. "She never said she was married!"

Baskerville's jaw dropped. _The ring Mingchao found! It must've belonged to Rommie's husband, and she lost it when Aeon caught her!_

"I can't imagine why she wouldn't tell you. They were madly in love," said Aeon calmly.

Benkate smirked. "You were jealous," she said. "I bet you set that guy up just for an excuse to go out and kill him. I know your type."

Aeon raised an eyebrow. "You're pretty intuitive. I guess it's a woman's nature to understand these things. In a way, you are correct, but the Order hadn't been too pleased with him anyway. I was just looking to speed up the process."

Benkate chuckled. "You killed your brother because you couldn't stand to see him all over Rommie, when you wanted her so badly for yourself."

"Benkate, please don't provoke him" Baskerville whispered. "Now is not the time."

"And now you've kidnapped her," Benkate concluded. "What is it you want, huh? The Firebrand? Well, you ain't gettin' it! The Posse's loading it up as we speak, and we're taking it far from the Order's reach."

Aeon said nothing, but instead turned his attention down the street where the clattering sound of hooves could be heard approaching. A rushing carriage barreled down the street, drawn by two strong horses. The air rattled with the noise, and the carriage came to a sudden halt behind Aeon. The horses snorted and stamped, and the driver jumped down from his seat, rifle in hand.

The Posse remained silent, unsure of what this was about, or whom to expect. When the driver opened the door, he offered his hand, and a woman stepped out onto the packed earth of the street. She glanced around at the group, and then removed her shawl.

"You're Elwood's maid!" Benkate barked. "What are you doing here?"

The old woman tried to speak, but Aeon silenced her. "Did you bring it?" he asked.

Nodding, the maid gestured to the carriage, and the driver jumped inside. When he emerged, he held a long box with a wrapped object on top.

Baskerville gasped softly. "You didn't."

"How could you betray us?" one of the women shouted. "The man you're working for is our ally!"

"I no longer work for him," the maid said, sticking her nose in the air. "The Order gave me an offer I couldn't refuse."

Baskerville glowered. _What could they possibly offer her?_ _Doesn't she know they're murders and liars?_ "And what _did_ they offer you?"

"That's none of your business," the maid snapped, "but I will say that I've held a grudge against that man for some time now. My husband wanted to work with Mr. Belgrade's company, but that tyrant wouldn't allow it. I knew it was simply because my husband was a member of the Order, and that man hates them. When my husband passed away, I was left destitute and had no choice but to work as a maid, and that evil man was the only one offering the job. He humiliated me and my family."

"Sheez, you seemed like a nice enough lady when we met you," grumbled Benkate.

"This is what you get for putting that knife against my throat," the maid sneered at Baskerville, but Baskerville only glared. "Now _they_ have the gun, and now I can go back east to be with the rest of my family."

As promised, one of the men brought forth a sack and handed it to the maid, and she returned to the carriage as quickly as she had come, and was driven down the road and gone.

Aeon laughed. "Old, bitter people are so useful."

"That woman has no idea what she's just done," whispered Baskerville to himself. "How selfish."

"Well, now…" Aeon removed the covering from the Firebrand and held it up to his gleaming eyes. An edge of excitement flickered in them, so much so that it even made Benkate openly nervous. "A true masterpiece of human ingenuity. It's such a shame that it's never been fired." He looked over at the Posse. "Shall we try it?"

* * *

Mingchao pressed her back against the door, pushing as hard as she could, but it wouldn't budge. "Darn it!" She yelled as she pushed again, slamming herself against it, but when she heard the board under her feet crack, she knew she was in trouble.

The support under her feet gave way, and she tumbled to the floor in a heap of wood. The wooden stairs had collapsed under her from the pressure of using it as leverage. Whatever the men had placed over the door, it was incredibly heavy. She hadn't even felt the door move in the slightest.

Spitting out dirt, Mingchao sighed despairingly. The ropes around her wrists were chafing, and her arms were beginning to ache. She wasn't even sure how long she'd been down there, but ever since the men left she'd been trying to move the door. The absolute darkness around her was beginning to eat away at her sanity. She constantly had to check herself to avoid panicking. _Mr. Priest and Benkate will come for me, I know it. They always have._

Mingchao sat against the wall. It drove her crazy to just sit there and do nothing, but without the steps she had no way to reach the door. She decided that if she heard anyone above her she'd try to make as much noise as possible.

Unable to sit still, she got up and began moving along and feeling the wall with her shoulder. She had been too busy with the door to try doing this, but as she felt her way she found nothing. _That's weird. It's like one big, empty space. This place would've been better to hide the Firebrand—if they were actually trying to hide it from us!_ She kicked herself for being so stupid. She should've realized it the moment she broke into the building.

As strange as it sounded, Mingchao was glad she was the only one there. It would've broken her heart to know she'd led everyone into a trap. Yet, then again, they were probably already out there, falling into another one.

She sighed when she thought about it, and when she turned to go back towards the front of the cellar, she heard a faint noise. Her mind wanted to believe it was coming from above, but in reality was coming from nearby. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

"W-What is that?" she said aloud, frightened. She didn't like hearing and not seeing, especially in a dark enclosed space.

The noise came again, this time louder. Mingchao listened closely and then realized it was something groaning. Was it an animal? She moved along the wall again, slowly, trying to follow the sound. "Hello?"

She was still moving when her boot struck something soft. She jumped back with a yelp. "Who are you?"

The groan came again. "Uhh…Stay…away."

Mingchao heard something shifting on the floor, just barely. She got the impression that whatever it was, it was weak.

Sticking her foot out again, the girl felt the thing. Her mind was thrown into confusion when she couldn't make it out. She thought she heard something rustle. _Fabric? Is it wearing clothes?_

She got down on her knees. "Who are you? Are you hurt? Please, say something!"

"Ming…" the voice said, with a hint of comprehension, "Mingchao?"

Mingchao's heart seemed to stop. "R…Rommie?" Shuffling closer, she leaned over her and listened. Her breathing what somewhat labored, coming in short gasps. "Rommie! You were here all along!" She blinked away tears. "But I thought that jerk said he lied—"

Then the truth struck her. The assassin had meant that he'd lied about Rommie not being here, not about taking Mingchao to her. Rommie had been unconscious in the cellar while Mingchao had been completely oblivious! "I'm so sorry, Rommie!"

Rommie didn't reply, and made no more sounds. Her breathing now was steady and deep. Had she fallen asleep?

"What'd they do to you?" Mingchao whispered, but she was relieved to have found her, yet frustrated that she couldn't see her condition. From the way it sounded, she was in pretty bad shape. "Oh, Rommie... The Posse's going to come for us soon, don't you worry. Just hang in there!"

As uncomfortable as it was, Mingchao lied down on her side next to Rommie, figuring she'd rest in case she needed the energy later. There was nothing else she could do without the steps.

She heard no other sounds except Rommie's breathing. She wondered what they had done to her so that she could barely speak. Had they tortured her? Did they try to wring information out of her? Mingchao closed her eyes against the terrifying possibilities.

Time passed slowly. She drifted in and out of sleep, and awoke when she realized one of her arms was going numb. She shifted to her other side, feeling stiff. She figured Rommie probably felt worse than she did. The whole time she didn't hear her move.

Right as Mingchao was nodding off again she heard a thump, this time from above. It was followed by what sounded like footsteps and voices. She jumped up, excited and hopeful, and followed the wall to the front.

"Hey! Help us! We're down here, guys!" she shouted, hopping up and down. "Please! Heeeeey!"

The footsteps and voices continued, and she could hear the sound of crates being moved and dragged.

"Mr. Priest! Benkate! ANYONE! Help us! We're down heeere! HELP US!"

Mingchao gasped when she heard the crate above the cellar door being dragged away. "YES! Down here!"

She waited for a response, but none came. The footsteps faded away into the other room. Stunned, she listened. She couldn't make out any of the words, but the harder she listened, the more she thought they sounded like men. The sound of crates being moved soon diminished, and the room became quiet again.

 _That…wasn't the Posse,_ she thought with disappointment. They should've been able to hear her. Was that the Order? What were they doing?"Were they taking the guns?" she wondered aloud. "Oh, no. What about my Eto Gun?" They couldn't fire it, but still…

* * *

Aeon ordered his men to march the captives up several streets, winding their way through the city and further up a hill. The further they strayed from the city center, the more wooden structures they saw. This began to worry the Posse.

The women walked together in a group with the men from the Order aiming their rifles at their backs. Benkate wandered her way toward Baskerville and whispered, "Are they really going to fire that thing?"

"Probably," Baskerville replied darkly.

"But if it's as powerful as Elwood says it is, this whole city could go up in flames! What good would that do the Order?"

"Who knows? They've probably got some evil scheme planned for the aftermath." Baskerville considered the men behind him. _It's dangerous, but if I can get a hold of my knives, I might be able to buy some time and let everyone escape._ They were greatly outnumbered, but he was confident he could fight long enough.

In the moonlight it was difficult to see where exactly they were headed, but when they crested the hill on the street they were following it came to a dead end. Confused, the women glanced around. Their captors pushed by them, forcing them to turn and face the way they had come. Then they could see why they had been brought here.

They viewed the entire city from their vantage point, and a ways down the hill in front of them stood an imposing brick building. The moon's rays reflected off the glass of the dozens of windows that lined its front. Wide stairs led to the entrance.

Aeon turned to the others. "That, if you didn't happen to know already, is the courthouse. Now, don't get me wrong. We hold nothing against the courthouse or anyone who works within. Several of our own members work there, but since the Posse is so conveniently in our presence, this should be easy to work out."

"Easy to work out?" said Benkate. "Are you planning to blame the Posse on what you're about to do?"

"That answer is only for the ears of other Olympus Order members," Aeon replied with a smile.

He ordered one of the men to bring him the bullets of the Firebrand, and he carefully loaded the pistol with gunpowder. Baskerville and Benkate watched him carefully, noting how the gun seemed so old fashioned, and yet the bullets were so modern. Whoever created the gun must've been a genius!

As Aeon cautiously inserted one of the bullets into the muzzle, Baskerville couldn't stay quiet. "Wait, Aeon! How do you know the gun will actually work? You said it had never been fired. It's old, so there's no knowing if it won't just explode in your face—or kill all of us."

The assassin stared at him disinterestedly. "That's a risk I'm willing to take. I've been waiting for this moment for years, but I never thought _I'd_ have the honor of being the first to fire it."

Turning from the others, Aeon faced the view of the city, and aimed the gun at the courthouse. For a few tense moments, he didn't move as he aimed, and everyone behind him held their breaths. Then his finger pulled the trigger, and the flint swept down.

To most everyone's ears, it sounded like an ordinary gunshot from an old pistol, but to Baskerville's there was a distinct _zip_ as the bullet blasted forth from its barrel. He was certain Benkate, a gun expert, heard it was well.

A short, eerie pause ensued, and then the courthouse exploded as if several cannons had fired all at once.

So stunned was the crowd watching that they fell back and shielded their faces from the light of the explosion, all except Aeon who stood calmly watching the blaze, his arm still raised from firing. A fireball rose into the sky, like a sun rising from the earth, sucking the air from around the spectators. Then it disappeared into a mountain of smoke. A strange wind picked up, trailing the smoke in their direction.

Coughing, Baskerville dropped to his knees. He watched as the immense fire devoured the courthouse.

* * *

Mingchao sat up when she felt the earth rumble.

"What that heck was that?" she said, looking around herself, though seeing nothing. She felt a few pieces of dirt fall from the ceiling as they were shaken from their places. Next to her, Rommie stirred.

"Mingchao?" she said in a cracked voice.

"Rommie!"

"Mingchao, was that… What was that?"

Mingchao leaned over her, unsure of where Rommie's head was. "I don't know. Maybe it was an earthquake?"

Rommie's voice came back feeble. "No, I think… I think that was the Firebrand."

Mingchao's eyes went wide with shock. "The Firebrand? How do you know, and why would the Posse fire it?"

"It's not the Posse," Rommie replied softly. "The Olympus Order now has it. It's the only thing that could make that kind of noise." Although Rommie still seemed incapacitated, Mingchao could tell that her voice was a little stronger than before.

The girl blinked in the blackness. "But…how did the Order get the gun? I thought the Posse was going to take it away?"

"The man who's been trying to kill us—Aeon—he told me their plan." Rommie explained how the man had ambushed her in the alley, just as Mingchao had suspected. Then he had taken her into the basement where other members beat her and discovered that the Posse had obtained the Firebrand's bullets.

Mingchao gave a start. "You told them? But why? Rommie, I never thought _you_ would do such a thing!"

"I didn't," replied Rommie. "I taunted them by telling them how far ahead we were, but…they already knew. There was a spy among us: Elwood's maid."

"Elwood's…" Mingchao trailed off as she thought about it. _That sweet old lady who was so concerned about me? Why? How could she?_

* * *

The group watched in amazement as the fire jumped to other buildings, consuming them. Its glow radiated so much that even from their vantage point they could feel the heat. People in nearby buildings had begun fleeing the area, and others were trying to control the fire.

"What a monstrosity," Benkate said under her breath. It was both beautiful and terrifying, but even she was repulsed by it. _I like rare guns and all, but…this is too much! This thing's not a gun, it's a BOMB._

Aeon continued to watch the tragic scene unfold below, the Firebrand hanging limply in his hand. He showed neither amusement nor regret, but stood there like stone.

As Benkate watched him, she heard a man scream behind her. She whirled, seeing an Order member stagger back, a knife in his throat. Blood spurted down his shirt, and he collapsed. Panicked, the other members looked around frantically to find the missing Baskerville, but he was too fast. Several more men cried out, knives protruding from various body parts, a few in the head.

"Run!" she heard Baskerville call out, but she couldn't see him anywhere.

The Posse women darted away from their captors as the surviving men tried to regain their wits. A few of the women drew their pistols and shot a few more dead before disappearing into the trees of an undeveloped area behind them. Benkate followed, bringing her pistol out as well.

"Baskerville!" she called as she maneuvered her way around trees in the dark night. "Where are you?"

"He isn't here!" she heard a woman say from somewhere nearby. "I think he may still be on the hill!"

Benkate skidded to a stop and turned. _Oh, no! What's that idiot trying to do?_ Dashing back the way she came, she tried to avoid the trees, but a branch struck her in the face and she fell, clutching her nose. "Ahh!"

* * *

Meanwhile, the remaining members of the Order took up their weapons to pursue, but Aeon stopped them. "Let them go," he told them. "It's too late for them now. We're going back to the wagons to lead them out. That's our first priority."

Before Aeon could take another step, he felt a sting on the hand that held the Firebrand, and he dropped the gun to the ground. Bringing his hand up to see it, he detected another attack, and whipped out his silver guns and fired a few quick shots.

He felt another sharp pain in his shoulder and staggered back. "So you're still out there, are you?" he growled as he pulled out the knife with a wince. Ignoring the pain, Aeon brought up his guns again and fired into the forest, his shots coming rapidly and in succession, not ceasing for several moments. The other men fled down the hill in the direction of the Mauglin Building, steering away from the spreading fire.

When the assassin finally stopped, he waited, but no more knives came his way. His shoulder throbbed, but it was merely a flesh wound. It wouldn't take much to treat it.

He chuckled to himself as he imagined the body of the other man mutilated on the forest floor. "You were such a fool to think you could use knives against me." Smiling, Aeon turned to pick up the Firebrand again, but to his surprise it wasn't where he thought he'd dropped it. He quickly scanned the ground, but it was missing. "Damn you!" He didn't see the box of bullets, either. Baskerville had made him believe he was inside the forest, when really he had moved away and snuck around him, stealing the gun and its bullets. "You're smarter—and faster—than I gave you credit for," said Aeon respectfully, and then he smirked. "But let's see how far you can run."


	26. Crazy for You

"Thanks, Rommie," said Mingchao as she rubbed her wrists. Rommie had untied her bindings so now she was free to move, but that still wouldn't help their situation. Rommie would've lifted Mingchao to open the cellar's door if she wasn't so weak, and she complained of a swollen arm. Instead, they sat in the darkness, waiting to be rescued.

"You came down here to help me?" asked Rommie. Mingchao was encouraged to hear Rommie's voice becoming stronger.

"Sure did! But I didn't know the Order had set a trap, so…" Mingchao hung her head.

"Thank you," Rommie said gratefully.

"Why? I wasn't able to get you out," said Mingchao. "I don't deserve your thanks."

"But you cared," replied Rommie. "For a while I worried I was too hard on all of you. That and I believed the Posse would leave without me. Really, I wanted them to."

"How can you say that? We would never leave you! I came because everyone else was taking so darn long deciding what to do. I knew exactly where to find you." Mingchao reached her hand out, intending to touch the Rommie's shoulder, but instead found her knee. She had her legs drawn up. "I wasn't ever going to leave you behind, and I'm sure everyone will come and find us here soon."

"Vixen was right about your optimism. She always did have an eye for good people." If Mingchao could see her, she would see Rommie smile.

"By the way, Rommie, you said that assassin's name was Aeon. How come he knows you?" The innocence in Mingchao's tone made Rommie sigh.

Rommie went on to explain that Aeon was her brother-in-law—or used to be—and that he was the one responsible for killing the man who became her husband. Mingchao was startled to find out that the "friend" Rommie had mentioned back in California had actually been her husband. The former Hollywood star didn't usually go around blurting out her past to just anyone. Very few in the Dawn Posse even knew.

"Ever since we were kids, Aeon has had a crush on me, and I could tell how jealous he was when Ezra and I started becoming closer. He had tried to woo me several times, but I was never attracted to him. His personality bothered me. Ezra was much gentler and level-headed. He didn't resort to violence like his half-brother did. Aeon was always getting into trouble, and when he joined the Olympus Order I knew something was wrong.

"He stopped talking to me after I became engaged to Ezra, and I was actually glad, but then a few months after I married Ezra, I was just finishing up with a show when I received the news that my husband had been killed in a bank robbery gone bad—or so the story went. When I sought more information, I was told that someone really had tried to rob the bank, but no money had been stolen. My husband just happened to be 'caught in the line of fire'."

"Then you found the hit list in that director's desk?" said Mingchao.

"I knew Armand was a high-ranking member of the Order, so I thought I'd snoop."

"How'd you find out about the Posse?"

"I didn't. At that time, the Dawn Posse didn't exist. To make a long story short, I met Vixen—Windlon—one day, and we discovered how much we had in common, including our deceased husbands and our suspicions about the Order. It was her idea to form a group against them. The rest is history."

"Heeey…. Rommie, did you keep your husband's ring?" Mingchao asked curiously.

"I did, why?"

"I found one in the alley. It was gold and looked like a man's ring."

"You found it? I must've dropped it when Aeon grabbed me!" Rommie shifted excitedly. "Do you still have it?"

"I do!" said Mingchao happily, and she pulled out the ring from her pocket. "Benkate said I should sell it, but I knew it had to be special to someone!"

Rommie's hand found Mingchao's, and she snatched the ring back. "Oh, thank you, Mingchao! I would've died if I'd lost it."

Mingchao laughed. "It's no big deal. Luck just always seems to be on my side." She giggled. "It was so funny, because Benkate made Mr. Priest wear it to see if it would fit, but it was too big. Your husband must've had big hands."

There was an awkward silence for about a span of five seconds, and then Rommie said, "Oh, _really_?"

"Uh…y-yeah." Mingchao sensed an edge in the Rommie's voice. _Did I say something wrong?_

"Yes, Mingchao, my husband had thick hands. He was a manly man, not tall and skinny like someone _we_ know." She paused. "Or a fop like Aeon."

Mingchao chuckled at that. "He does dress funny, but Mr. Priest looks better. You did really well cutting his hair."

"I have experience," Rommie said proudly. "I had wanted to shear off that mange for _so_ long."

The two of them laughed together, the first time since they had met.

* * *

Baskerville pressed himself against the wall of the building, peering around the corner at the Mauglin Building. _Good. The fire hasn't reached this part of town yet._

He watched the departing procession of men and wagons disappear down the street, uncertain of what they were doing. The wagons were covered with canvas tarps, but he could easily assume they were carrying away the crates of guns that Mingchao had told him about. _There go all of Benkate's guns_ , he mused, but where could they be taking them all _?_ At this point, he didn't care, because his only concern was getting Mingchao and Rommie out of the building, and getting the Firebrand out of the city.

He'd been able to swipe the Firebrand and its bullets out from under Aeon's nose, and on his way down into the city he found an old shirt lying in the street, abandoned. He ditched the box that held the bullets and placed everything inside the shirt, tying it together to keep them secure. It would make it easier to carry than having to lug around the box.

A sudden pain stabbed in his chest, and he nearly dropped the bundle. The adrenaline rush from earlier was wearing off, and now the usual chest pains were beginning to return. The old wound in his chest seemed to respond to his fears and burn.

_No, not now._ He moaned as he rubbed his chest rapidly, trying to will the ache away. He wasn't certain how far his body would allow him to fight, but as long as he could see that Mingchao and the others were safely out of the Order's clutches, he didn't care if he died.

When he was certain the train of men and wagons was gone, he sprinted out from around the corner and over to the front steps of the Mauglin Building. He found the double-doors wide open, and the raging fire in the city sent quivering rays of light into the lobby, allowing enough light for him to see. The strange stillness inside the building unsettled him, and the noise from the shouting citizens fighting the fire trickled to his ears.

Trying to control his breathing, Baskerville shifted the makeshift bag to his other hand, and ran off towards the basement's stairwell. When he found it, he rushed down, keeping his hand on the wall to steady himself on his wobbling legs. His mind fought to keep control of his movements so that he didn't stumble. The candles that had been lit on the sconces on the walls were beginning to burn out.

At the bottom, the door was open just as the front doors had been. He quickly grabbed a candle from a sconce and leapt inside. When his eyes searched around himself, he found the place devoid of just about everything except some old chairs and damaged artwork. He remembered Mingchao describing the hundreds of crates that reached the ceiling. Was this the same room?

"Mingchao?" he called. "Are you here?"

At first he heard nothing, but then he heard a sound so tiny that he wasn't sure he had heard it. The sound came again, several more times, and then he realized what it was. "Mingchao! Where are you?"

Following the noise, Baskerville spied the small, dark room ahead of him, and ran inside expecting to find the girl, but she wasn't there. Confused, he listened, and was confounded to hear the voice coming from under his feet. "Mingchao?"

"I'm down here!" came the faint reply beneath him. "Help us, Mr. Priest!"

Baskerville dropped the bag and searched with his hands, feeling the wood of the door, but he couldn't find a way to open it. "Mingchao, how do I open this thing?"

"There's a ring you pull!" the girl told him frantically. "Hurry, Mr. Priest!"

Baskerville ran his hands over the door until they struck something hard and cold. He curled his fingers around it and yanked. With a cloud of dust, the door stood open, and he could just barely see the girl's pale face staring up at him fearfully in the dim light of his candle.

"Mingchao! Are you all right?" he asked. Relief flooded his heart.

"I am, but Rommie's not!" the girl replied. "She's hurt!"

Baskerville lied down on his stomach and reached his arms over the ledge of the cellar. "Grab on," he said, but Mingchao shook her head.

"Take Rommie first!"

Baskerville did as she requested and pulled Rommie out. She held back a cry of pain as he hauled her out by her arms, and then he retrieved Mingchao. She clutched him thankfully, hugging him.

"I knew you'd come for us!" she muffled against him. Rommie lay sprawled on the floor, letting the pain in her arm ebb away. She probably didn't have the energy to thank him.

"We don't have much time," he told them. "There's a fire burning in the city, and if we don't get out it'll burn down the Mauglin Building, too. We're not safe, even down here."

"Rommie said the Order got the Firebrand. Did they shoot it?" Mingchao asked with worry

Baskerville nodded. "They did." He glanced over at Rommie and saw she was beginning to sit up, holding tightly onto her injured arm. "I now understand why the Posse was so bent on destroying that gun." He looked down at Mingchao. "But I got it back for us."

"You did? You're the best, Mr. Priest!" Mingchao grinned.

Baskerville let go of Mingchao and went over to Rommie, gently grabbing hold of her arm. Rommie whimpered. "Can you walk?" he asked.

"I think so," she said, though she sounded uncertain. He helped her up, and if he hadn't been holding her, she would've collapsed.

As the three of them returned to the stairwell, Baskerville and Mingchao could see the extent of the damage done to Rommie. Her clothes were torn, and she was beaten black and blue, although it appeared her face had only been struck a few times. Her swollen arm seemed to be the worst of it. She explained to them that they had hit her in the back of the head to knock her out, and she was out cold until she discovered Mingchao was with her.

They reached the top of the stairs and made their way toward the front doors. The light from the fire was intensifying, and this worried Baskerville. He wasn't sure how close the fire was now, or how fast it was traveling, but it was certainly larger than before.

When they stepped outside, they were dismayed to see that the fire was destroying dozens more buildings, and many people had abandoned the fight to put it out. Now they were gathering what little belongings they had left, then taking flight over the bridge to cross the river that flowed through the heart of the city.

As the three were watching, a horse and rider suddenly skidded to halt in front of them, and a woman called down to them. It was Fortune.

"You found her?" she said, surprised. Jumping down from her horse, the doctor took Rommie from Baskerville's arms and put her on the horse. She turned back to the other two. "We're leaving, and we'll be expecting you on the other side of the river with Elwood. I'm afraid things didn't turn out the way we had hoped. The Order was once again a step ahead of us."

Baskerville smiled "Not true." He opened the shirt-bag to reveal the gun and bullets. Fortune's eyes opened wide.

"How did you—"

"It's a long story. Take it," he said, handing her the bag, "and go with Rommie over the bridge. Mingchao and I will—"

He was cut off when an explosion from a nearby building rocked them. Mingchao screamed and latched onto Baskerville, while Fortune's horse reared up, terrified.

"We'll meet you, then," Fortune yelled as she spurred the horse and rushed down the street toward the bridge.

Baskerville grabbed Mingchao's hand and they bolted away from the Mauglin Building, just as sparks from the fire were beginning to fall around them. A nasty wind was picking up, aiding the flames. It wouldn't be long before the building was consumed.

The two friends fought the fleeing crowd, trying to keep themselves from tripping and being trampled. At one point, Baskerville picked up Mingchao and carried her, and she watched his face anxiously for signs of overexertion.

There were shouts of annoyance ahead of them, and a rider and horse broke into the crowd, going in the opposite direction, heading for Baskerville and Mingchao. As they got closer, they recognized Benkate.

"Benkate!" Mingchao cried joyfully. "You're okay!"

Benkate smiled when she saw Mingchao, but then quickly turned her attention to Baskerville. "The Order's not too far from here. We've got to stop them before they get away with those guns! They're moving slow enough for us to catch up."

Baskerville hesitated before answering. He looked at Mingchao. "Mingchao, do you think you can make it across the bridge?"

The girl gaped at him, and then saw ahead of them where the now-thinning crowd was turning. The bridge mustn't have been far.

"I think so," she mumbled. "Yeah, I can do it!" Then she hesitated. "But Mr. Priest, the Order took away the Eto Gun! I don't have it anymore!"

"It must be with the load they're carrying," Benkate reasoned.

"Then we'll get it back," Baskerville told Mingchao with a confident smile. "We always do." _In this ruckus, I doubt the Order will be of the mind to attack anyone. She should be safe._

Her eyes sparkling with encouragement, Mingchao watched as Baskerville mounted the horse with Benkate, and they disappeared into the drifting smoke from the fire, heading in the direction of the Order's wagon train. Then, she hurried off toward the bridge, whispering a prayer to protect her friends.

* * *

Benkate and Baskerville were well away from the fire when they caught up with the back of the wagon train. Horses and oxen lugged along, pulling the heavy carts with men prodding them ahead.

Benkate glanced over her shoulder at her friend. "You ready?"

Baskerville nodded, pulling out his knives. He wasn't sure how just the two of them were going stop the entire train, and since it appeared the Posse had given up he wasn't going to expect any backup. The best they could do was slow down the wagons, and maybe break open some of the crates. _But when Benkate wants her guns, she gets them,_ he thought as he gazed at the determined gunslinger. Benkate wasn't to be trifled with when it came to rare guns.

Pulling out her pistol, Benkate laughed maniacally and shot pointblank at the nearest man. He fell to the ground, clutching his shoulder in agony. Then she aimed for the nearest horse pulling a cart, and the animal jumped frightfully as a bullet grazed its head.

Benkate spurred the horse faster, and the animal dashed by the back of the train. Baskerville tossed knives as they passed, hitting several men and mortally wounding them. He even struck a few oxen, causing them to stumble and drop dead.

The men began shouting that the Posse had arrived, and were drawing their weapons when Benkate jumped off her horse, leaving Baskerville to man the animal. She collided with a member, punching him in the face, and then shot another man as she climbed atop the canvas tarp of a cart, ripping it off. The tarp flew off in a wave and she kicked open a crate, lifting a rifle out. When she quickly checked it, she found it already loaded.

With the ease and grace of a dancer, Benkate let rip the few shots in the gun before the other men could get theirs aimed. Several of them lay dead in pools of blood before they knew what hit them.

Baskerville in the meantime was still throwing knives, downing people and animals wherever he passed on the horse. A few times he felt a bullet graze his body, but once he alighted from the horse he became too fast for anyone to hit directly. He mimicked Benkate and climbed on a cart, removing the tarp and taking out guns. He couldn't understand why the Order would have the weapons loaded, unless they were planning to use them soon, but he took advantage of their foolishness and let bullets fly.

By this time, several of the members retreated and fled, leaving behind the battle and their fallen comrades. Only the most dedicated men—the highest ranking—continued to fire at their enemies, hiding behind the oxen or carts. Many others toward the front of the train tried to get the animals moving faster, but the carts were just too heavy.

Benkate and Baskerville were left taking out the last few men at their end of the train, while the rest either ran away or headed towards the front, breaking open crates to get guns for themselves.

Baskerville removed a knife from the head of a man when he looked up at Benkate. "I think we'd better get out while we can. They'll outnumber us if we don't—" His eyes went wide when he saw what the redhead was holding.

She unfolded her seven-foot rifle triumphantly, grinning wider than he had ever seen her smile. "I missed you so much," she said lovingly as she rubbed the barrel against her cheek. "Now we can trash all these buffoons!"

Baskerville was beginning to sweat, but it wasn't from Benkate's emotional reunion with her rifle. He hadn't realized before that his racing heart was making him feel lightheaded. In the quiet pause his noticed how weak he was becoming. Now he was more likely to slip up, which would cost him his life. And he didn't even know if Mingchao had made it across the bridge.

"Hey, Baskerville!" he heard Benkate call, and he gave a start. "Catch!"

Baskerville turned, but before he knew what was coming the Eto Gun landed in his hands. He gawked at it.

"Where'd you find it?" he asked.

Benkate winked. "With my rifle. I guess rare guns belong together."

When Baskerville examined the Eto Gun, he noticed the hairs protruding from its holes. He knew then that the gun was ready to fire.

* * *

Fortune's horse pounded over the wide, wooden bridge at a fast pace, trying to avoid hitting other people as she sped along. Rommie was behind her, trying to hang on, but she could feel her friend's hands losing their grip. She slowed and turned to her friend.

"Are you all right?" she asked, looking at her closely.

Beads of sweat were forming on Rommie's forehead, but she nodded. "I'm just sore, that's all. Keep going."

Spurring the horse forward, Fortune could see the end of the bridge in sight. The glow from the fire cast a hazy light that helped them to see their path, but a deep shadow hid the bottom of the river's gorge. They could hear the deafening sound of water roaring over the rocks, drowning out the sound of the terrified citizens. This particular river was especially dangerous because of the maze of giant basalt rocks that were scattered on the bottom, creating enormous rapids that no one dared to venture by boat. The water was a blessing to the city because it powered the mills that lined it, but spring runoff created an awe-inspiring sight of spray and powerful falls. Anyone could expect certain death if they had the misfortune of falling into it.

When Fortune's horse was close to the end of the bridge, she saw the people around her stumbling and screaming. Many people scattered and dropped their belongings, scrambling past her.

Puzzled, Fortune turned in her saddle and watched the desperate crowd, stopping her horse. Rommie turned as well, her eyes wide with fear.

Over the din of the falls their ears picked out the sound of gunshots. At first the women suspected there was a confrontation between two despairing citizens, but when a bullet whizzed by them they caught sight of two silver guns flashing in the light of the blaze.

Fortune turned the horse and went for her pistol, but before she could pull it out another bullet lodged in her arm, and then another found her opposite shoulder. Jolted, the doctor fell from her place in the saddle and onto the bridge, writhing. The bag containing the Firebrand dropped next to her.

"Fortune!" Rommie cried out. The horse, startled from the gunfire, whinnied and began running away. Unwilling to leave her friend, Rommie slid from her seat and crashed to the planks, crawling over to the doctor.

"R-Rommie," Fortune groaned, "run away."

"But I…"

"Rommie," sang a soothing voice in front of her. Rommie cringed and looked up to see Aeon standing over her and Fortune, a tranquil smile on his face that contrasted with the situation. She glared at him hatefully.

Rommie choked on a sob. "Why? Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Because I love you," Aeon said sweetly. "I always have."

"You're a creep!" shouted Rommie. "You killed Ezra because you're such a selfish bastard and you couldn't take no for an answer!"

His hand shot out and grabbed her by the collar, bringing her to her feet and staring her in the eyes. "Ezra was a loser," he told her in a low and threatening voice. "I was a better match for you. People even said we looked good together. We were two beautiful people—"

He stopped when Rommie spat in his face, and he let go of her collar to wipe off the saliva that stuck to his cheek.

"Only your little henchmen told you lies like that, because you liked to have your worthless ego stroked," Rommie mocked contemptuously. "Ezra didn't want to be with the Order anymore because he found out what monsters they really were, and he wasn't like that. He wasn't a sicko like you."

"Just goes to show that he didn't have any guts," Aeon derided. "Only the strong survive in the Olympus Order."

"These are the last days for them," said Fortune from her position on the ground. With both her arms useless, she was unable to use her pistol again. Instead, she used her body to shield the Firebrand's bag behind her, hoping Aeon wouldn't suspect.

"Is it?" asked Aeon with skepticism. "I thought that was the Dawn Posse I saw running away like cowards."

"We don't run away," replied Fortune. "We scatter and then regroup. It's what we've always done. Many times the Order has suspected we've dissolved, only to find out that we've returned in full force, stronger than before."

Aeon stared down at her blandly. "Then let's see that they don't." He aimed his silver gun at Fortune. "Once you're finished, I'll take Rommie, and without a suitable leader the Dawn Posse won't be able to function properly." He shrugged. "It's as simple as that."

"No!" Rommie shrieked. She jumped forward and plowed into him, grabbing his arm and pushing it away.

Aeon's gun went off and struck the railing of the bridge, but Rommie was too weak to fend him off for long. He shoved her away, sending her tumbling to the side of the bridge. He leisurely made his way over to Rommie where in a fit of gleeful rage he straddled her and placed his hand around her throat.

"You were always meant to be mine," he told her in a voice trembling with devious intent. "Once this is over, I'll take you back to California where we can be together."

Rommie strangled on his hold around her throat, reaching up with her hands to claw at his face. Her legs kicked furiously as the air supply to her brain was diminishing.

"I'll let you live if you chose to come with me," Aeon offered. "But if you reject me, I'm afraid I can't allow you to live. It breaks my heart to have to do this, but I can't bear to see the only woman I've ever loved in the arms of another man again."

As if in response, Rommie's hand came up and slapped against his face. Aeon increased the pressure. "You've made you choice!"

Fortune, squirming from the gunshots, tried to keep watching the spectacle. "Rommie!" she cried hoarsely. "Please! Stop it!"

"I'll end your misery soon," Aeon promised as she glanced at her.

Rommie's struggling body was beginning to slow, and her eyes were rolling back in her head as she neared death. Aeon gave her a winsome smile, but at the same time there was a tortured look in his eyes. He really was killing the only woman he ever loved.

He bent forward and kissed her forehead as a final goodbye before her mind went blank, but before he could pull away something hard struck the back of his head.


	27. To Canada

Fortune watched as the assassin fell limply over Rommie, and the woman under him gasped and coughed. Behind Aeon stood Mingchao, a thick plank of wood hoisted in her hands, ready for another strike, but Aeon had fallen unconscious, and it didn't appear he would be awakening any time soon.

The plank Mingchao carried seemed too large for a girl her size to carry, but her strength had apparently increased when she saw Rommie's dire situation, and forgot herself in the frenzy to save her.

Fearlessly, and almost angrily, Mingchao grabbed the assassin and dragged him off of Rommie. Rommie struggled to move, but Mingchao knelt beside her and told her to sit still. Fortune had forgotten her own pain as she watched in amazement.

The crowd that had gone across the bridge was long gone, but Fortune felt the bridge vibrating, and it wasn't from the roiling river below. She moved her aching head and spotted mounted horses rushing toward them. At first she was afraid they'd trample her as she thought they might be fleeing citizens, but as they came closer they came to a sudden halt, and one figure dismounted. His wide, fluttering coat caught the shifting air from the fire behind him.

"You gals all right?" he drawled in a harsh voice. He rushed over to Fortune and lifted her head, seeing her wounds.

"Silas Clayton," the doctor muttered.

"As promised," the old lawman nodded. "But it looks like I got here a little too late." He glanced over at Mingchao and Rommie, and the comatose Aeon. "Looks like you got 'im." He gave them a toothy grin.

The injured doctor winced. "Wish we had sooner."

Motioning for his men to approach, Clayton helped Fortune to her feet. Blood dripped onto the wood below her. He then ordered one of his men to take her away across the bridge, as well as Rommie and Mingchao. A few others took Aeon, tying his hands and legs with ropes and removing his guns.

"What about you?" Mingchao asked the lawman when she was pulled up on a horse.

"Me? I've got a score to settle with the Order. I'm meetin' with the other girls back in town to take care of their little contraband party." The old man smiled evilly.

"You mean the Posse's still there?" said Mingchao in surprise. "They were supposed to leave!"

"They _were_ leavin' until they saw _us_ comin'," Clayton explained, "and now your two friends are in a heap of trouble. Best we get back and help 'em out."

* * *

The fire was beginning to spread in the direction of the Order's wagon train, and with nearly half the train put out of action their progress had become even slower. Men began tearing open the crates and grabbing the loaded guns, their eyes keeping watch on the two figures down the street.

"Looks like they're not going down without a fight," Benkate observed from atop her cart. She swung her rifle around, making sure it was loaded. "You in, Baskey?"

Baskerville looked down at the Eto Gun in his hand. There were oxen and horses all around him, so he didn't have to worry about finding animal essence, but it was his body he was worried about, not the gun.

The first shot was fired from the Order, splintering the wood on Benkate's cart, and Benkate took aim with her rifle. A resounding boom shook the air, and an explosion could be heard—and seen—as the bullet made contact with another cart up ahead. It was smashed to bits, damaging the crates and the guns inside.

Benkate took another shot before jumping down from the cart to hide. Baskerville joined her with the Eto Gun still in hand.

"Well, are you or aren't you?" Benkate asked as she loaded more bullets into her rifle. She had found several packaged inside the crates, and stuffed a few into her clothes.

"What?" Baskerille looked at her quizzically.

"Are you gonna shoot that thing or what?"

"Well…"

"We don't have all day, you know. One shot with the Eto Gun could end all this, and only you can do it. What kind of a bullet does it have?"

Baskerville pulled a hair out of the gun. "I don't know." He thought it looked like a horse hair perhaps.

Without warning, a long torrent of gunfire started, and several bullets ricocheted under the cart where the two were hiding. The companions jumped and danced out of the way awkwardly as they narrowly escaped being struck.

Taking a chance, Benkate stood with her rifle and let another bullet fly, but she sank down again quickly without seeing where it hit. She growled loudly.

"We don't have a chance if they keep this up!" she said above the noise.

"That's the point!" Baskerville said. He could imagine the men slowly coming forward, hoping to drive out their prey. When he peered around the cart, he was right. A bullet grazed his cheek, and he jerked back. At this rate, their cart would be reduced to smithereens. _I have no choice!_

Whipping around the cart again, he aimed the Eto Gun and fired. With the graceful speed of a wild stallion, the horse bullet slammed into a succession of carts, all the way up the street, creating a bizarre domino effect as they exploded one by one. The men scattered and leapt out of the way, but others were caught in it, thrown high into the air or knocked aside.

Benkate cheered and grabbed onto Baskerville's shoulders happily. The carts and wagons were utterly destroyed. Guns were strewn all over the street, most damaged beyond use. "We've got those bastards now!" But then she looked to Baskerville.

He fell to his knees and dropped the Eto Gun, clutching his right shoulder as pain tore through it. Benkate fell beside him, trying to hold him up.

"What happened?" she asked. Her hand came away with blood smeared over it. "They got you? How?"

Baskerville was sweating profusely, but Benkate tried to smile brightly. "We've won this round," she told him with confidence.

"I don't think so," Baskerville tried to say between gasps. "We're surrounded."

Benkate gaped. "What?" She gazed around herself. There was mostly flying dust from the horse bullet's impact, but then she could see them. Their figures emerged from the smoke like ghosts, their rifles and pistols aimed. They encircled the two with grim expressions.

"All this destruction caused by two people? Interesting. We certainly underestimated you," said a voice from among the crowd. A fat man pushed between two gunmen and looked down at the companions disdainfully. He was red in the face and sweating. It was Heaton, and he wasn't surprised to see Baskerville. "It looks like Mr. Prevett was correct in telling me not to take on any more initiates."

Benkate pointed a finger. "But now the show's over for you." She stayed close to Baskerville, supporting him. "You're not taking these guns any further! The Order's finished!"

Heaton shook his head and smiled. "Not so. The Olympus Order is always prepared. We've written up the worst case scenario for this situation, and when people start asking questions, we'll know what to tell them." He raised his hand as a signal to the other men, preparing them to fire at the two.

Benkate glared angrily. "So that's how they're always 'one step ahead' as the Posse puts it," she said under her breath.

Baskerville could barely keep up with the conversation because of the pain. As he watched them, he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye and lifted his eyes to the rooftops. Initially he thought more members were acting as snipers, but when their numbers increased, many of the other men on the ground began looking around nervously. Some even lowered their weapons.

Heaton brought his hand down, but he heard nothing. Angry, he turned to the men and shouted, "What's the matter with you? Kill them!" When he saw the puzzlement on the other members' faces, he looked up. The color fled from his face.

"Like the good lady said," a cracked voice was heard in the shadows, "the show's over for you dirt bags." The smoke swirled and parted as the Clayton stepped toward the circle, his rifle hanging casually at his side. His yellow teeth gleamed in the light of the approaching fire.

"T-This…" Heaton trembled, his double-chin jiggling with both fear and rage. "The Dawn Posse attacked us! We were simply taking away important supplies to save from the fire, for those who will have lost everything to this disaster!"

Clayton said nothing, but glared hard at the branch leader. Behind him other figures appeared, many of them still wearing their cloaks. They held pistols and rifles at ready. Heaton looked at them aghast. The Dawn Posse was working with the lawman.

"Supplies, eh?" Clayton said, eyeing the remains of guns on the street. "Unless you were preparing for anarchy, I'd say you were lookin' to start a rebellion."

" _They_ are the rebels!" Heaton bellowed as he pointed at the women standing next to Clayton. "They always have been! They're outlaws!" When he couldn't garner a response from Clayton, he looked to his men. "Kill them! ALL OF THEM!"

The men exchanged uncertain glances when they saw the snipers on the roofs cock their weapons and take aim. Clayton also brought up his rifle, as well as the women around him.

Clayton leered shrewdly "'Innocent until proven guilty.' That shouldn't be too hard, should it?"

* * *

Mingchao watched from the window of the carriage as the fiery blaze continued to engulf the heart of the city, and she wondered if Baskerville and Benkate were okay. At one point she thought she saw a familiar light radiate in another part of town, but she was afraid her eyes were playing tricks on her. If it was the Eto Gun, that would mean Baskerville was using it, but she wasn't sure where the gun had been after the Order had taken it. Did he find it?

"Is the _whole_ city going to burn down?" she asked as she turned to Elwood. "I hope your house doesn't burn down, too!"

"The fire should die out on its own soon," Elwood assured her. "My home is somewhat on the outskirts, so the fire isn't likely to reach it."

The millionaire was busy tearing off pieces of cloth from Rommie and Fortune's clothes to create bandages. Mingchao had been helping as well when she paused to see the city. She felt guilty for making Elwood get his hands dirty, but the men Clayton had sent to the carriage were busy guarding them.

"I'm glad most people were able to get out," Mingchao mumbled as she went to tie off a bandage on Fortune's wounded shoulder. The doctor would need to have the bullets removed when they found a suitable town to take them to. Rommie was in better shape, although bruising began to appear around her neck.

She looked at the former Hollywood star sadly, huddled in the corner of her seat in the carriage. Aeon had awoken not too long after they reached their safe point over the bridge, and hadn't stopped cursing his captors since. Rommie was trying to keep herself hidden from view, but she couldn't escape his voice. Just knowing he was there made her come unglued.

Mingchao huffed in annoyance when Aeon began screaming for Rommie. _If I still had that plank, I'd go hit you a dozen more times!_ It infuriated her, what he had done to Rommie, and she swore she'd never let him touch her again. _He'd have to get through_ me _first!_

"What's going to happen to that guy?" she asked Elwood.

"They'll probably take him to prison," the millionaire said. "He's not coming with us to where we're going, if that's what you were wondering."

Mingchao shook her head. "No. I figured that would happen." As angry as she was with the assassin, it still bothered her to think that he could be hung for his crimes, and yet at the same time she knew that if he were he'd never bother Rommie again. She considered this quietly as she fumbled with another strip of cloth.

The shirt containing the Firebrand wrapped inside had been placed carefully under Elwood's seat, and since boarding the carriage no one had touched it or spoken of it. It was almost forgotten in the aftermath.

Aeon's shouts were replaced by furious muffling as one of the lawmen gagged him to keep him quiet. Mingchao could hear him scuffling as he kicked about. He had been tied to a tree for safe measure, and his guns were well out of his reach with one of the other lawmen.

"Say, Elwood," said Mingchao, "are you going with us to Canada?"

Elwood smiled kindly. "Of course. I agreed to be a part of this, and I want to see it through. I want to see this Firebrand destroyed—as difficult as it would be to see such fine craftsmanship lost forever, but its power is too great for this world."

Mingchao looked back at the burning city, and she noticed that the fire seemed to be somewhat smaller than before. _I can't believe one bullet did all that. I'm glad the Posse is getting rid of it._

A shout from one of the lawmen notified them of approaching visitors. Mingchao stepped out of the carriage to see, and gasped when she saw Benkate and Baskerville riding up on horseback, along with the cloaked women of the Dawn Posse. The sky behind them was lightening with the rising sun of a new day.

* * *

They made good time getting to a town over the border, and as soon as they reached it Elwood searched out the best doctor money could buy. Fortune and Baskerville had their bullets removed, and Rommie was examined for any further injuries. Despite having been beaten to a pulp, he found only a few fractured ribs and suggested she get several days of rest. Her arm's swelling had gone down, and she had her neck bandaged to hide the bruising. Sometimes it hurt for her to swallow.

Elwood put everyone up at a fine hotel, and they were all thankful for the rest. For the longest time Mingchao had been losing sleep, as well as everyone else, so when she awoke the next day she'd never felt better. She was relieved that Baskerville had retrieved the Eto Gun and was doing well himself. She rarely left his side as he was recovering.

They received several telegraphs from Clayton concerning the fate of the Olympus Order. With his reports, he notified law enforcement in cities all over America, and men were being arrested by the hundreds. Those on the lowest ranks were safe from the law, as they had no idea what kind of group they had joined. Some members tried to flee to Canada or Mexico, but vengeful posses caught up with most of them, hanging them on the spot. Clayton tried to discourage this, but he was really only one man. His job of exposing the Order was finished, but now he had the task of cleaning up the mess.

Benkate managed to find most of her guns in the wreckage of the Order's wagon train, but she didn't find all of them. A few she found damaged, but she figured she could get them fixed. She could only assume the missing guns had changed out of the Order's hands and into others elsewhere. Now she planned to return to the States and try to find them again, but she wanted to see her friends recover first, and hear that the Firebrand was finally destroyed.

"How are we going to get rid of it?" Mingchao asked one morning as she was helping to change Baskerville's bandages. He was sitting up in bed in the hotel room.

Fortune sat across from them in a chair, her own bandages having just been changed. "Actually…we haven't decided that. There are several ways we could, but at this time we need to rest and regain our strength."

Mingchao sighed "I guess you're right, but I've been thinking we should drop it in the ocean or something. That way no one would ever find it again."

Fortune chuckled. "That does sound like a good idea, but we're quite far from the ocean at this point."

Mingchao smiled. "We could all go there together! I miss the ocean, and maybe Elwood could take us all on one of those fancy ships like that one we went to New York oon, Mr. Priest!"

Baskerville laughed and then winced at the pain in his shoulder. His wound was doing better, but it could open up if he wasn't careful.

"Perhaps, Mingchao," he told her with a smile. "How's Rommie doing? I haven't seen her since we got into the hotel."

Fortune looked down at the floor. "She's healing from her physical injuries, but I'm afraid it'll take longer for her spirit. Honestly, I've never seen her like this in all the time I've known her. She was always so strong…so sure of herself. Perhaps it was because she was nearly killed that day on the bridge. Who knows?"

"She won't talk to anyone except you and Elwood," Mingchao said. "When I knocked on the door she wouldn't answer."

Fortune nodded. "I don't believe she means to be such a hermit, but she just needs a little time, that's all. I'm sure she'll emerge soon."

"I'm sure she will, too," agreed Baskerville. "We'll give her the space she needs until she's ready."

As Fortune left the room, Mingchao tied off the last of Baskerville's bandages. She paused thoughtfully as she rolled up the extra strips.

"Mr. Priest, what are we going to do when the gun is gone? Are we going back to Los Angeles?" she asked.

"If you want to," Baskerville replied. "Our house is still there, that is unless the Order did something to do while we were gone."

"I wonder what Rommie will do?" the girl said quietly. "Does she have a family she can go back to?"

"I don't know, Mingchao. She really hasn't told us much about her life. All this time we didn't know she had been married once." He pulled up his shirt to cover his bandaged shoulder. "Maybe she'll go back to Los Angeles, but then maybe she won't. I certainly wouldn't want to go back to New York again, because of all the bad memories I have of that place. Rommie might feel the same way about L.A."

"Maybe she can come with us?" Mingchao suggested, and when Baskerville looked at the girl's glittering eyes, he shrunk away.

"N-Now wait a second. Don't expect _me_ to do anything, and you just want her around because she was a Hollywood star!"

"But I want her to teach me!" Mingchao complained. "Come on, Mr. Priest! Ask her to stay with us for a while. And Benkate, too!"

Her eyes seemed to get bigger the more she pleaded, until finally she won him over. As a thank you, she ran downstairs to the hotel's restaurant to get him some food, leaving him alone to think.

_You've got to be kidding me,_ he thought to himself. _Benkate's a handful enough as it is, but Rommie?_ He looked down at his shoulder and scowled. _This is the same arm she stuck a pencil in when we first met!_

He jumped when he heard a knock at his door. "Come in," he said. As the door was swinging open, he shifted himself in the bed. "That was fast, Mingchao. What'd you get—"

Rommie peered around the door at him. "You mean she's not here?" she asked sheepishly.

Startled, Baskerville quickly tugged his shirt over himself, alarmed and embarrassed. Ignoring his consternation, Rommie stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. She was dressed in her usual shirt and breeches, and she still had the bandage around her throat.

"W-W-What are you doing in my room?" Baskerville stammered, his face red.

Rommie gave him an incredulous glare. "What, you think I have some ulterior motive for being here? I was looking for Mingchao, you dolt."

"She went downstairs. She went to get me some food."

Rommie turned to the door and locked it, much to Baskerville's dismay.

"If you're looking for her, go downstairs!" Baskerville said shrilly.

"I don't want anyone to know I'm up," Rommie explained, "and if Mingchao's not here, I guess I'll have to talk to you."

"About what exactly? She'll be back any minute. Ask her when she gets back."

"Well, now that I think about it, I think it's best this way." Rommie stopped for a moment to think, and then she pulled something out of her pocket. Stepping over to the bed, she sat down on the edge and gave him a serious look. Baskerville scooted away a little, unsure of what she wanted.

"You act like I have a disease," Rommie whispered. Sighing, she held out a small pouch. "This is something really important to me, but I can't have it anymore. I want Mingchao to have it for herself when she grows up."

Hesitantly taking the pouch, Baskerville felt it. There was something very small inside. "This isn't your late husband's ring, is it?"

Rommie shook her head. "No. I'm keeping that until I feel it's time to move on. This is something else." She leaned close to him so she could whisper. "I've got some business I need to take care of elsewhere. Eventually I'm going to have to leave. Until then, keep that with you, and when I'm gone I'd like for you to give it to Mingchao."

"Why wait?" Baskerville pressed. "Why would you want to do that?"

"Because I'll have another meltdown if I see her take it out. In other words, I hate goodbyes." Rommie looked away from him, ashamed that she had just shared that with him.

"So, what's this 'business' you need to take care of? Rommie, you just got done bringing down the Order. Shouldn't you take it easy from here on?"

Rommie eyed him. "Did you?"

Baskerville was about to question her again when he realized what she meant. "Who told you about that?"

"Mingchao told me everything, about how you defeated a group called the Syndicate. You were a member there, too, and her father was the leader. I knew there was something different about you."

Baskerville heaved a deep sigh. Leave it to Mingchao to spill the beans. "We never intended for this to happen. Sometimes when things happen, it's just fate. But you have a choice, Rommie." He looked at her intently. "Why don't you come with us back to Los Angeles? Mingchao would appreciate it if you did."

Rommie shook her head quickly. "We'd best not go back there any time soon. Remnants of the Order might be seeking revenge. Already some of the Posse girls have left and found homes somewhere else. There have been a few reports of retaliation, but by now most of the Posse has dissolved."

"Then where else can we possibly go?" said Baskerville with a shrug. "I don't know this part of the country."

"I was thinking of heading back to the States, to Seattle," Rommie said thoughtfully. "From there I could board a ship to Australia."

"Australia?" Baskerville blurted. "Why would you want to go to a place like that?"

"I've got some family there, and it's not as bad as people say it is. It's like people from the Eastern coast thinking the West is wild and untamed."

"It _is_ ," said Baskerville emphatically. What planet was this woman from? "Will we bring the Firebrand with us? Mingchao was saying we should drop it in the ocean."

Rommie rubbed her chin. "That's not such a bad idea. In fact, that's a great idea." She stood up from the bed. "Then it's settled. We'll be leaving for Seattle as soon as everyone is well enough."


	28. A Dream Realized

Mingchao sat in the chair of the dressing room while Rommie pulled and tugged the girl's hair.

"Ouch!" she griped. "Don't pull so hard, Rommie."

"You want it to look nice, don't you?" Rommie said. "Tonight's the night, and you may not get another chance."

Mingchao pouted. "So says you, but I know this is the start of something big."

Rommie just smiled, saying nothing. She twisted the girl's hair up and pinned it, and then stood back to view her work. "It's perfect. Maybe I should become a hairstylist instead?"

"You mean you're not going back to Hollywood?" asked Mingchao.

Rommie looked away. "No. I'm finished with that. It's time I start fresh."

Mingchao went silent. Rommie had informed everyone that she intended to leave for Australia not long after they arrived in Seattle, but after a two months of waiting she hadn't made any preparations. Instead, she made her living singing in saloons, something she detested, but she had to in order to make money. Mingchao suspected that the former star was trying to save up enough money to make the passage to Australia, and it was taking her quite a while. Mingchao begged Rommie not to leave, but she wouldn't be convinced otherwise. She was dead set on leaving.

During their time in Seattle, Rommie had taken the enthusiastic girl under her wing and began teaching her the art of dance and music. Although it would typically take years develop professional skill, she was pleased enough with Mingchao's progress that she convinced the owner of a saloon she worked at to allow the girl to be in a show. When Mingchao heard the news, she was overjoyed. This was no typical saloon she would be performing at. It was high-end, like the Queen's Devil in Los Angeles had been.

As Mingchao got up off the chair, Rommie crouched and began adjusting the girl's dress. Mingchao watched her, considering what to say.

"Rommie, when you leave for Australia, will we ever see you again?" she asked.

Rommie was quiet before she answered. "Maybe. I may not leave once I get there, but there is a chance in the future that I could return to America. It's just such a long and dangerous voyage that it may not be practical doing it twice."

Mingchao sighed. "I guess so. I'll really miss you."

Rommie smiled kindly as she looked up at the girl. "And I'll miss you." Standing up, she considered her handiwork. "Are you ready?"

Mingchao gave her a confident smile. "Sure am! I'm not afraid at all! I've been waiting my whole life for something like this to happen!" In reality, she did have a few butterflies in her tummy, but it was more out of excitement than nervousness. So many people she knew would be there, including Baskerville and Benkate. Benkate had chosen to stay for a while, but Mingchao suspected it had to do with the Firebrand. The gun hadn't yet been destroyed. Rommie decided to use Mingchao's idea and drop the gun and its bullets into the ocean while she was on the ship to Australia.

Elwood had returned to Spokane Falls, much to the girl's disappointment, but he had to take care of his business there, and he wanted to help out with rebuilding the city after the fire. His home had been spared as well, but that seemed to be the least of his concerns. He strictly requested that he be sent a telegraph when the Firebrand was gone.

Mingchao was sad to see that the millionaire had to return home alone. He revealed to them that he once had a wife and son, but they hated the West and returned back East, where they both caught an illness and died. Mingchao realized that's what he meant when he'd said he had already lost everything. He had all the riches he could ask for, but no one to share it with. In the end, none of it was worth anything to him. All he wanted was his wife and son back, but that was impossible. Before he left Mingchao and her friends, however, he left them a large sum of money to live on, and he invited them back to his home any time they wished.

"I think Elwood liked you," Mingchao told Rommie with a grin.

Rommie blushed. "I suppose he did, but I don't have time for any of that. I've had my fill of men chasing after me."

The bruising around Rommie's neck had faded long ago, but it was apparent her heart still felt the pain of the past. Before she could consider remarrying, she needed to heal.

"The show's about to start," she said, and steered the girl towards the lowered curtain. A few other women in costume joined them, giddy with anticipation.

As the curtain rose, the crowd in front of Mingchao amazed her. It was a full house, and somewhere in that sea of people she picked out the faces of her two friends. They waved to her.

She would never forget the cheers she heard that night, cheers for her. The spotlight on her was something she had been beginning to doubt would ever happen. She caught the flowers thrown to the stage, and smiled happily. Maybe dreams really do come true.


	29. Epilogue

"There she goes." Mingchao sniffled as they watched from the dock. The large ship boarded there had already pulled away and was making its way out into the sound, where it would curve around a large peninsula and set its path to the open ocean. "I hope she makes it okay."

"Oh, she will," Benkate assured her. "If the Order couldn't take her out, nothing will." She smirked when she looked at Baskerville, who was busy watching the departing ship. "Say, Baskey, I'm surprised with you."

He cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Benkate planted her hands on her hips. "You're so daft! I meant I'm surprised you didn't try to get her to stay."

"Why would I? She wanted to go."

Benkate and Mingchao exchanged glances. Benkate leaned over and put a heavy hand on his shoulder and smiled.

"You _liked_ her," she said slowly. "I could tell."

"Well, I..." Baskerville considered it, and his cheeks went slightly red. He lightly knocked away Benkate's hand from his shoulder. "Benkate, you wouldn't know anything."

Benkate laughed. "Oh, ho! He's afraid to admit it!" She looked to Mingchao and the girl was also grinning. "Come on, Baskey! I saw the way you looked at her on stage that night, and every time since then."

Baskerville straightened his jacket as he glared at her. Pulling out the small pouch Rommie had given him, he tossed it to Mingchao. "Rommie wanted to give this to you."

When Mingchao opened it, a small ring fell out. It was silver with a fair sized diamond at the top. She gave it a puzzled look. "Why would she give me this?"

Baskerville shrugged. "I'm not sure. She said she didn't need it anymore."

Benkate suddenly lurched forward to get a better look at the ring. "Wait a second! That's not—Is that _her_ wedding ring?"

Mingchao gasped when she realized it. Rommie always had her late husband's ring with her, but did she also have her own? It baffled her that Rommie would give her something so precious. She felt honored to have it now. At this time, though, the ring was too big to fit on her finger, but as she grew older it would definitely fit. Rommie may not be able to return to America, but at least Mingchao could have something to remember her by.

The girl looked into the distance, but by now the ship had disappeared into the sea traffic.

* * *

The ship was a mere speck in the vastness of the blue ocean. A light breeze blew just enough to fill the sails as the vessel coursed southward.

Rommie stepped out onto the deck in the harsh light of the sun. She blinked and shielded her eyes as she viewed the expanse. She could hardly make out the separation between ocean and sky.

In her hand she held a sack. She pulled it up and set it against the ship's railing, and gazed down into the frothing water that the ship was stirring up in its passage.

She hesitated at first, opening the bag and looking inside. The Firebrand and its bullets were jumbled inside, not having seen the light of day since being switched from an old shirt to a sack months ago.

_For years we searched for you. Now your journey has come to an end._

Grasping the bottom of the bag, Rommie lifted the sack up and over the railing and watched as the bullets and the gun itself fell into the ocean's oblivion. The vision was burned into her memory, and she could imagine the pieces sinking into the abyss where the flickering light of the sun would not shine.

Rommie let the bag drop from her hands as well, and saw it sink beneath the waves. She thought of it as her own past, being swallowed up into time and space, and when she looked up from the waves she saw the endless horizon.


End file.
